


Like a Black Swallowtail Butterfly

by heygirlie



Category: Glee
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst, Dubious Consent, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-19
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 19:56:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heygirlie/pseuds/heygirlie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for <a href="http://glee-angst-meme.livejournal.com/15590.html?thread=11961830#t11961830">this prompt</a> on the glee_angst_meme; Dave finds a supernatural object that grants wishes, and what he wants most is another chance with Kurt. But it seems like something goes wrong with each wish, and he only has five...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

~*~

0\. ("Bird Song," Florence + the Machine)

 _But in my dreams began to creep  
That old familiar tweet, tweet, tweet_

~*~

"What about this?"

Dave Karofsky's mom holds up a tin metal vase with two handles. He looks at it for two seconds and says, "It's nice."

"Well," she continues, and holds up a different vase made out of frosted glass, "do you think it's better than this one? I'm thinking I want to start buying fresh flowers every week and put them on the dining room table. Which one do you think matches the cabinet more?"

Dave stares at his mom and the two equally ugly flower vases she actually wanted to pay money for. This must be why it was so hot this summer, because he was in _hell_. That stupid prom prank had proved he had no real friends, all the summer jobs had gone to college kids so he had no spending money, he'd already put on weight because there was no football to balance out the pizza and M &Ms until August, he broke his only controller after getting frustrated playing Portal 2, he accidentally downloaded a virus on his laptop from porn, the AC at his house wasn't working which is the only reason he agreed to go out shopping with his mother, his cell phone was ancient and didn't play any games, and he was a totally closeted - _something_ \- who'd rather stab himself in the eyeball than act anything like a homo, and yet. There he was, in an antiques store, getting asked for his opinion on interior fucking decorating.

It wasn't worth the free air conditioning. "I don't know Mom, just get whatever."

She frowns at his attitude, and walks away in a slight huff.

Dave sighs. He was going to get shit for this later on. Even without homework and grades, his parents never let up on him.

"Melissa's Antiques & Collectibles" was light on the antiques and heavy on the collectables. There was plenty of furniture dating back along the 20th century, second-hand women's clothing, costume jewelry, and shabby chic flea market finds. But most of the stuff was from the estate of Melissa Pierson's deceased great-aunt, who never married and traveled around the world, always bringing back a bunch of souvenirs to Ohio. It all looked like a bunch of old crap to Dave, and that was one more reason why he couldn't be gay, because they loved this stupid stuff and he was smarter than that.

The store was set up in a half-assed 'around the world' layout. One corner was West Africa, one was Brazil, and a wall in the back cataloged the first world nations of Europe. Dave was somewhere in the Rhinelands, hunched in on himself and moving slowly. He was no Finn Hudson, but if he saw something halfway interesting he couldn't keep his hands to himself. Looking around was less boring than sitting in the front and waiting for his mom, but it would be ten times worse if he broke something.

Dave picks up a small figurine that looks like it belongs in the living room of an old church lady with twenty cats. A pale little boy climbing a fence with birds around him. It's no different from the dozens of other china dolls in that section, clearly part of some collection.

"You like Hummel?"

Dave turns so fast he knocks his elbow on a dresser, rattling the pieces on top. "What?" he breathes. He clenches down on the figure in his sweaty hand and really hopes he heard wrong.

The sales lady narrows her eyes at him, like she thinks he's been caught stealing. "Are you interested in Hummel figurines?" she repeats. She's gotta be at least sixty and her name tag reads _Melissa_ , so, okay, she must be the owner.

"Is that what they're called?" he wonders out loud, dazed from relief. Like he would bother lifting from this place.

She mistakes his cover up for interest and starts to make a pitch. "Yes, they're quite popular. Ours are the genuine porcelain," Dave's eyes widen, "and you can see the traditional rosy, cherubic cheeks -"

He slams it down on the nearest surface and backs away. The middle-aged woman gets a murderous expression on her face, but all Dave can think about is that the universe is out to get him.

"Mom?" he calls. "Mom!" She better be done.

"Young man," hisses Melissa Pierson, "if you're not buying anything then perhaps you should leave."

"I'm just waiting for my mom," he protests, who fortunately comes around the corner ready to purchase her things, although she picks up on the tension and naturally assumes it's his fault.

"Just wait over there, I'm almost done," she says.

" _Fine_ ," says Dave.

When his phone rings he thinks it's someone else's at first. Not even Azimio really talks to him on the phone; all friendly communication this summer is pretty much Facebook and texting only.

"Hello?"

"Sup, Teddy? We're gonna part like it's 1936. Saturday night, 8 pm at the crip's house. Pick me up at twenty after, and bring anything from your parent's liquor cabinet that's not schnapps."

Dave barely has time to be irritated because he's already lost. Santana just has that effect on him. To start with, "We have a gang hangout in Lima?"

"What? No, it's at Artie's place."

Melissa raises her voice behind the counter to tell him _no cell phones in the store_.

"Yeah, whatever," he says and waves her off, but then Santana starts cursing at him in garbled Spanish. "No, not you! The - never mind, why should I go with you to some loser Glee party?" he asks. "You haven't even talked to me since school let out."

"It's sweet, really, how you're more upset about not getting enough attention from your girl than about being seen with us Glee losers," she says.

"Shut up, you're not my _girl_ anymore." Melissa the store owner is straight-up giving him the evil eye as she wraps a vase in packing paper. Dave would give her the finger in return if his mom wasn't there. "And how do you know I don't have plans?" He knows he's caught as soon as he says it, because when she asks he can't think of a good lie fast enough.

"Yeah, I heard Beiste shut down the annual football team summer hazing. You force a different junior player a week to throw a party and vomit somewhere in their own house, you're off the team. What's the matter, social calendar not as filled with C-grade horror movie and video game play dates as you thought it'd be?"

"No," Dave answers way too fast. He feels a little lightheaded in the resulting silence.

Santana starts up again with what sounds like her best attempt at pity. "It's a plus one event and everybody has to bring somebody else not from Glee." Apparently the lucky few who aren't incestuously mating with another club member were challenged to bring an actual date and not just a friend. It's unspoken that she might want to bring a girl, but won't, so he'll have to do.

And then the pity is gone and Santana tells him the only club member left who still hasn't found a 'date' to bring is Quinn, probably because her stretch marks force all potential suitors to run away screaming in madness, just like that Christina Ricci movie except she doesn't deserve a James McAvoy in the end -

The cell phone is suddenly jerked from his ear. "Hey!"

His mom ends the call and dumps her bags on him. The phone goes in her purse. "Call them back later." Melissa is still glaring at them. Whatever, Dave's happy to leave, but he wants his phone back. As they walk out he tries to fish it out of his mom's handbag.

"David, stop that," his mom says. "What are you, four?" She slaps his hand away.

"I've got a free hand, I can carry my own phone." Which is true, even if the twisty paper handles of the bag are digging painfully into his arm. Dave tunes her out because she starts lecturing him on how he can't call it his phone because he doesn't pay the bill every month, and tries again.

They're almost outside when she pulls at her purse, exasperated, with Dave's hand still inside it. "For God's sake, let go! You can have it when we're in the car." Maybe it's because he was having an actual conversation with Santana, maybe because they're hardly nice to each other but at least they can be honest, who knows, but Dave is more wound up than usual and he yanks so hard his mom stumbles. She flails for a second, caught between the store's Japan-land and the door to Ohio, then grabs onto a shelf for support - which promptly cracks and collapses, all the ceramic cats and tea sets crashing to the floor in pieces. The noise of it is deafening.

Dave feels his face burn white-hot. "Mom, I - I'm sorry." He can't believe he just trashed all that stuff, even if it was an accident. He was going to be in so much trouble now. What if he had hurt her?

She seems okay though, especially when she starts yelling at him, and then the owner is right there, yelling at both of them, and then his mom is yelling back at Melissa, and Dave thinks maybe he should try and help clean up.

"Here, I'm writing a blank check, okay? We're sorry about the mess!"

"I should ban you from ever coming back, your mammoth of a son is even worse than the kindergarteners with their gummy fingers!"

"Fine by me, I can go to some other overpriced indoor garage sale the next time - what are you doing?"

Dave looks up from where he's kneeled on the floor. "Uh... cleaning up?" Which he is; he's taking the bigger pieces that are less likely to cut him and dumping them into the nearest container, which are both of his mom's shopping bags. Because if they're paying for it, technically all the broken stuff is theirs.

"What's this?" he asks, distracted. It's the only thing from the pile that doesn't look broken, or even scratched: a long stone casing with a vine pattern, and a cord on top.

"A measly token won from a drunk shopkeeper, but for you? Two hundred dollars!" Melissa snatches away the proffered check over the protests of Dave's mom. "Just get out of here!" she shouts.

Neither of them say anything on the ride home, and he holds on to the strange object, unsuccessfully trying to untie the knotted cording with his bulky fingers. When his mom catches him finally taking his cell phone he's confined to his room until his father comes home, at which point they will discuss _further punishment_ and his _delinquent attitude problem_.

Dave slams his door, and it's got to be karma because it makes a tiny breeze for him.

He turns on his two fans, one rotating from the ground and another blasting from atop his dresser, strips down to his boxers, and face-plants on his bed. He gets about a minute of cotton coolness before his body heat seeps in.

Santana texts him Abrams' address, and signs it _the rose of lima heights_. He really wonders about her.

Dave kind of wants to go to the stupid party. He wants any kind of social life. No one dared say anything to his face, but he heard the snickers behind his back, and the whispering that stopped when they noticed he was watching. The football stud who got pussy-whipped into baby-sitting the fag he used to push around, it was hilarious crowning them both Prom Court Royalty. The puckheads openly laughed at him, and even some of the other guys in letterman jackets would bring it up as a joke. So no, he wasn't close to any of the McKinley athletes he used to think were worth his friendship, and except for Azimio sometimes, nobody bothered reaching out to him either. If Dave weren't such a badass right guard he'd probably be getting a free slushie twice a week.

Most of the people there will probably glare at him all night and be total bitches, but he knows Santana will stick up for him in her own special way. Her BFF Brittany was kind of dim but nice to everyone, and Mike tolerated him pretty well since he'd stopped bothering the Asian Wednesday Adams. Lauren Zizes didn't give a shit. Dave could probably get Sam and Artie on his side if he apologized, respectively, for punching the one in his face and knocking the other out of his wheelchair. Although he really only felt bad about the second one.

And... he wants to see Kurt.

Dave puts his face back into his pillow and groans. Thinking about Kurt is still horrible and exciting at the same time, and it still gives him a stomach ache sometimes. They're almost friends with each other and it sucks. It's better and worse than when he was straight-up bullying him.

He knows now that Kurt will never out him. Dave trusts him with that secret completely by this point. And that's a burden lifted, one he can physically feel, so that's better. It's worse because he thinks about all the time and effort he wasted making Kurt feel as terrified as he was. It's worse because when he apologized, which should have made things even between them, it just made Dave more vulnerable to Kurt. It's worse because a lot of the time he can't forget that Kurt is happy with his butterface gnome of a boyfriend.

And it's definitely worse because Kurt keeps trying to educate him from a safe distance, via email, with colorful Prezi presentations about stupid gay shit like expensive women's facial creams, and dead fashion designers, and amateur musicals about British people. Well, he wishes Kurt would decide to educate him on how to be a literal cocksucker.

Dave hears an unfamiliar _click_. It's enough to make him get up and search for the cause.

The sound turns out to be from the stone item. He must have loosened it more than he thought, or the heat expanded it, or something. The cord is loose and the inner section juts out just a little. Curious to see what's inside, Dave pulls it out to reveal - a bunch of sticks?

"What the hell," he murmurs. Maybe it's incense? He sniffs at it, and then coughs. It just smells like dust, but also kind of sweaty.

And thanks to his fans it's getting blown all over his room. Seriously, how is this his life?

Dave knows exactly whose fault it is, too. If he hadn't kissed Kurt all those months ago his life would be a lot different. Well, if he could do it all over again... he'd still kiss Kurt, actually. Dave unconsciously tightens his grip as he remembers the way Kurt got all up in his face, enraged and flushed. He took one kiss and he wouldn't undo that even if he could. It means too much to him, way more that it probably does to Kurt.

But he'd probably act differently right afterwards; he'd play it cool the second time around and not get shot down trying to go double-dipping. And then he'd just leave Kurt alone. Or at least he'd stop shoving him around and not say he was going to kill him.

And because he's that pathetic, he voices his teenage angst aloud; "I wish I could do-over that kiss right."

This time there's no mistaking the source of the noise, a sharp _crack_ like dry kindle snapping, and he has just enough time to recognize that the sticks now resemble four fingers and a bent thumb before everything warps -

~*~


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fill for [this prompt](http://glee-angst-meme.livejournal.com/15590.html?page=34#comments) on the glee_angst_meme. Dave wishes that he could do-over his kiss with Kurt, and insanely enough it comes true. Everything is awesome this time around. Really. It's all good.

~*~

1\. ("Stork and Owl," TV on the Radio)

 _Owl said, "Death's a door that love walks through.  
In and out, in and out. Back and forth, back and forth."_

~*~

\- and there are LIPS.

Before Dave registers anything else - like the contorted change in body position, or the scratch of polyester on his previously bare arms and legs, or the drastic drop in temperature, or the familiar stink of the locker room faintly tempered by something much headier and close to him, all of it abrupt - his mind recognizes LIPS. Soft, and they taste like chapstick. He's kissing someone.

Dave wrenches back to reveal Kurt Hummel's shocked expression. It pretty much reflects what his own face must look like at the moment. His brain is more devoid of understanding than usual, disoriented and stuck on _what!what!what!_ instead of complete and actual thoughts.

Both of them stand there, Kurt frozen in astonishment and Dave breathing as if winded. It slowly occurs to him that he's somehow come back to the moment from all his nightmares and fantasies, and dizziness from shock makes it feel more real than ever. When he dreamed it felt like real life, and when things like this actually happened in real life they felt more like a dream.

He slowly flexes his hands against the sides of Kurt's head. It feels like his fingers have been cramped in fists for too long. Dave remembers that he was just thinking about this, about getting a second chance and doing things over right. He knows exactly what to do and what to say.

Let go. Back off. Apologize. And then stay away.

But staying away from Kurt is the last thing he wants to do now. Dave is just inches away from that clever mouth, and he can't stop staring. Kurt's lips are slightly parted, puffed and shiny from a wet kiss and _right there_. He hasn't shoved Dave away yet.

It's really all Dave can do _not_ to kiss him again. Part of him wants to stay in control and do the right thing but the temptation to give in is very, very strong. Just one more, he wants just one more kiss _so badly_ , even for another second. He never thought he'd get the chance again.

So he just stays there, unmoving. If he just waits there long enough, Dave will somehow muster the willpower to drop his hands and move away. Or Kurt will come to his senses and knee him in the balls, whatever comes first.

When Kurt grips his letterman collar and smashes their faces together, Dave dumbly thinks he's trying to headbutt him. Then he feels a tongue swipe over his lower lip and the other boy tilts his head and Dave gets his second shock in under a minute because Kurt Hummel is kissing him back.

His mind goes blank again, thoughts dissolving like salt in a sea of _yes!yes!yes!_

The kissing isn't all that great; Kurt doesn't seem to know what to do with his tongue and Dave knows (because Santana was thoughtful enough to tell him) that he's kind of slobbery and the knowledge makes him anxious, so it ends up being kind of a one-sided French make-out. But Dave has his hands on Kurt and that makes up for everything. He's touching Kurt, he _gets_ to touch him, it's the most awesome thing ever.

Dave runs his palms down Kurt's sides, and over his back, and up his stomach and chest, and then does it all over again. He gets a hand in Kurt's hair, kneading at Kurt's scalp to get a better feel, and it's thick and smooth like he knew it would be. Kurt groans a little and Dave thinks that Kurt's hair must be the equivalent of what boobs are to girls; their best feature and usually off-limits.

Someone gets a leg in between and there's a blissful moment of full body contact before the threat of discovery negates the sensation; the loud bang of a nearby locker makes them jump six feet apart. They look at absolutely anything except each other, suddenly full of dread in the noisy wake of whoever came in through the other door and started rummaging in their locker just a few aisles over.

Dave struggles to keep his breathing quiet. In his own ears it sounds like he's chuffing for air after a 5K run. Kurt is stone silent and except for a hand patting down the back of his head, unmoving. They wait to be caught, but the mystery person never comes around the corner and doesn't call out to ask who else is there. The locker door slams shut and they hear him mutter and walk out, the noise of the hallway briefly reaching them before getting cut off again.

Dave lets out a gigantic sigh. He's got a major hard-on crowding the front of his jeans that feels agonizing just standing there, but his whole body sags in relief - at least before he remembers where he is. Then he straightens back up and hopes it's before Kurt can notice or react to any show of weakness, but of course he already has.

The patented sneer is something David remembers well, even though he hasn't seen it in a while. It's restrained, more sarcastic than outright disdainful, and often paired with a finger swipe to imaginary hairs fallen out of place. Kurt's got the classic nose-in-the-air though, just enough so you get distracted by the stretch of his neck but aren't treated to a close-up of his nostrils. Dave wonders when he got so obsessed that he could analyze details like that, like someone who could actually write essays instead of forcing some loser sophomore do it for him. If only he could write about Kurt Hummel instead of whatever bullshit classic literature they had to read in English. Dave would write about conflict. It used to be a look that he dreaded and wanted at the same time. It made Dave feel slow and stupid and inferior; it meant that Kurt acknowledged his existence; it made him want to shove down and into - shove Kurt down to the floor and into some lockers.

"You gonna tell all your jockstrap friends about this?" Kurt finally asks.

" _No_ ," says Dave, because he at least tries not to be stupid and crazy. Without meaning to, and purely on instinct, he immediately throws back, "Are you?"

Kurt lightly sniffs at that, like the smell of the boy's locker room doesn't even register with him, and picks some invisible lint off his cardigan. "If I'm going to deliberately spread gossip about myself it won't be for something as uncouth as getting a taste of the Fury - "

"That's my fist, not my mouth," interrupts Dave, because he's stupid without even trying. He blushes under Kurt's incredulous stare. Only part of it is because he can't ever seem to keep up with the other boy on a purely intellectual level. The other is because now he's thinking about Kurt getting a literal taste of the Fury, one finger at a time.

God, he just can't help himself. "Sorry," he mumbles, and stares at the floor, and tries to think about unsexy things like Beiste and Sylvester going at it, and how much of a raging perv he still is.

"For what?" asks Kurt quietly. It's with a trace of curiosity, not pity, so this time Dave doesn't fall the fuck apart when he gives in to answer.

"Just - everything, I guess. For bullying you. For taking it too far - I mean I'm not gonna skip down the halls flinging glitter and rainbows and singing about how homo I am. You know what would happen if I did that?" And then Dave cringes, because of course Kurt _knows_. Dave is part of the group that taught him. "I mean," he tries again, "I have to stay afloat. That's high school. But I shouldn't have, like, tried to kick you down without a harness so I could survive, because then I'd be climbing to the top by drowning you."

"A mash-up of mountain climbing and water safety metaphors, how incredibly eloquent. I think you actually blundered into an allusion of submission by ancient Persian custom," Kurt monotones.

Dave opens his mouth to snap something back, even if it's just _shut up_ , but then closes it. It's not like he got what Kurt meant anyway, only that he was being insulted, and Dave decides he'll let him have the last word like some kind of peace offering.

His mouth is still buzzing.

The silence goes on way past the line of awkward so Dave grabs his stuff and goes to leave. He remembers he was originally gearing up for weights class, which he ended up skipping so he could sit in his locked car trying not to cry because his life was over. If he put in his earbuds no one would bother him and he could think up excuses to step off Kurt that his teammates wouldn't question, especially that lardbag Strando with his -

"Wait," says Kurt, and so Dave does. Kurt goes up to the jock, gets right back in his face, and just sort of stares him down. Why did he have to grow so tall? For all his girly features Kurt's almost as tall as he is, and Dave's attention flicks back and forth between his eyes and his lips. The last time this happened, months ago - minutes ago - they kissed, so maybe. _Maybe_.

Kurt leans in slowly, enough for Dave to feel his heart throb in time with another part of him, enough that if he were normal he'd slam the other boy away for being too close but he's not, and then he finally feels the light pressure of Kurt's lips against his. Dave instantly pushes into it, trying to get more, and he thinks that noise might be himself moaning.

But then Kurt steps back, and Dave kind of wants to punch him in the arm because he's a _fucking tease_ , and he looks the same as always - immaculate and unaffected. Dave knows he gets ruddy as soon as he's out of breath, it's not fair.

"Don't mess with me," he says, except it comes out coarse and desperate instead of threatening.

"And yet look where pushing you and messing with you have gotten me," Kurt replies. He tilts his head, like he's considering something, then nods.

"Okay. Well, if this were a cheap harlequin novel, now would be the point where I, in a frenzy of hormonal passion, overlook your Neanderthal ode to pulling pigtails and slyly inquire as to whether or not I might be privy to the nicknames of your other extremities. Except my life is less Danielle Steel and more Robert Cormier, so just come over after school some time. I'm sure you know where Finn lives."

Dave is 97% percent sure most of that was in French. "What?"

Kurt rolls his eyes. "My beneficial friendships need a minimum I.Q. of three digits, so if you really want it? Figure it out."

And with that Kurt shoves past him, his slim shoulder knocking Dave towards the lockers as he leaves. Apparently this new world - or timeline, or dimension, whatever - is the bizarro version of the original.

The bell startles him into action, and Dave's late to weight training. He doesn't remember to put in his earbuds, but after enough one-word answers his buddies mostly leave him alone. He's obviously distracted. He doesn't even move from the leg press all period, which comes back to bite him the next day with aching hamstrings.

Dave rhythmically pushes and resists the weights with his legs. If this really wasn't some kind of hallucination... then Kurt really did kiss him, _twice_. He said to come over to his house for _more_. That part Dave understood.

He successfully thwarts the tweenie urge to put his fingers to his lips, but Dave can't help grinning. It makes him look mischievous, and more than one person thinks to themselves that he must be up to something.

It's not until football practice after school when he sees Hudson that Dave realizes Kurt said something off.

He brushes past some of his teammates to get to his sports locker, and every single guy from Glee glares at him as he goes by. Whatever, that's nothing new. Finn Hudson actually shakes his head at him like a teacher, it's such bullshit. Dave pulls his gear out, punctuating each thought with a thump of an object down on the bench. The guy is more retarded than the actual handicapped-in-the-head kids that go to McKinley, _slam_ , cleats. He actually broke - will break - that Berry girl's nose just by waving his hands around, _slam_ , gold bond powder. Dude's massive white boy dancing will probably kill a girl some day, cause of death: spirit fingers. But what, because people think nice equals good he gets to be the beloved leader? _Slam_ , helmet. The quarterback didn't do shit but he got all the credit. Even Kurt was all hot for him back in sophomore year.

And then it hits him, and Dave catches himself before he slams down his shoulder pads. Kurt hadn't said "where I live," he'd said "where Finn lives."

To his credit, Dave actually wonders why before getting irritated. He just can't escape Hudson's influence.

Normally Dave keeps his eyes strictly on his gear while changing, but he hasn't even taken off his shirt so he risks a glare back at Hudson, who notices. Good. Well, not good at all actually, because he definitely can't afford to start getting in fights (again), but it sure as hell feels great to let Finn know not everyone has his gigantor, acne-ridden back.

"You got something to say, Karofsky?"

"Yeah," he tells Hudson, "don't bother me while I'm getting undressed. You can save getting all bothered and hot for your Glee club."

"That's really clever, Karofsky. But seriously, I'm only gonna tell you one more time: leave Kurt alone or else."

"Ooh, I'm shaking," Dave scoffs. "You really know how to stand up for your new roommate, do you bring him cookies and milk in the middle of the night too?"

"Watch your fucking mouth," says Puckerman, who sounds way more hardcore than normal. Cold, and really pissed off, and the locker room starts to go quiet. It throws Dave off guard. He was always more of a prankster than anything else, even before Zizes claimed his balls. Maybe in this world he honestly came back a badass from the slammer. Dave grips his shoulder pads. At least no one had called him out on Kurt living with Finn? That meant he'd heard right. That was something good.

"It's not like the rest of us have ever been his best friends, but everyone else has backed off," says Mike Chang. "You're going way too far and it needs to stop."

Dave swallows a lump in his throat. He hides it by lifting his chin. "That right?"

"He just lost his dad, asshole," Puckerman shoots back. "That's like the one good reason to give even the crustiest dweeb a pass."

"Lost?" Dave asks quietly.

"As in died, Karofsky, you know that," Abrams chimes in.

"Everyone else leaves him alone now except for you," says Hudson. In the silence no one offers up a different opinion, not even a scornful snort, so Dave knows it's true. "I wasn't going to say anything, because I really thought you'd come around, and also Kurt doesn't want to deal with it. But I'm gonna talk to Coach if you don't stop, and Mr. Schuester, and Coach Sylvester because even if she's crazy she kind of likes Kurt, and then Mr. Figgins, and if I have to make my mom call your mom I will -"

"Just shut up, all right!" Dave drops his shoulder pads. "Okay!" He grabs them but his hands are sweaty; they almost slip out of his grip a second time. "Okay! I'll lay off."

So in this universe he wasn't the guy to borderline sexually harass Kurt, just the one to keep bullying him even when his dad was probably still warm in the ground. Fantastic.

Finn Hudson seems a little taken back, like he honestly didn't expect Dave to agree. "Oh."

"I _will_ ," Dave insists.

"Okay!"

"And I'm not doing it because I'm scared of you or the Beast!"

"Great!"

"In fact," and the excuse comes to him in a flash, "I'll even come by your house and say I'm sorry in person." Because there was nothing better than apologizing to a grieving teenager on their own turf, especially if you wanted to get into his pants.

Coach Beiste hollers at them to get their asses on the field in five flat, and everyone rushes back into action.

"Okay," Hudson says again. The rest of the Glee guys clearly think Dave is full of crap, but Hudson is kind of pleased with himself. He acts all buddy-buddy with Dave on the field, like they're new best friends. It doesn't help Dave at all. He spends the rest of the day absorbing the information of this new world, and it makes him fumble all his blocks. Beiste yells at him every ten minutes, and the pressure makes Dave mess up even more. He goes home with stinging legs and ringing ears.

Kurt kissed him back. Kurt's dad is dead. He wants Dave this time. He doesn't have a dad anymore.

Dave had met Mr. Hummel only three times, but that was enough to get a solid impression. The guy was... solid.

 _Dave walked down the hall, head up high. Kurt pretty much cowered every time Dave went by, and this time he even got to bust on Golden Fag Hudson. The status quo had been restored. But that didn't mean Dave could relax completely. He couldn't leave Kurt alone for good or else he might burst into song at his fucking Glee club about the power of truth, or standing up for yourself, or some other Disney-fied theme, and with the help of his loser friends tell the whole world. No. Dave would keep him scared, would make sure Kurt felt exactly what he made Dave feel, and would never, ever tell._

 _Out of nowhere Dave felt himself get grabbed and slammed hard against the wall. Flyers from the corkboard crumpled under his back and some of the pushpin heads dug in even through the layers of his shirt and varsity jacket, but it was the forearm painfully jammed in his throat that really made it uncomfortable - and harder to breathe._

 _"What the hell?" he exclaimed in surprise. Mostly because he didn't think anyone would be dumb enough to mess with him._

 _But it turned out he was the dumb one because the guy wasn't a kid from school, it was some trucker dude Dave didn't even know. The only thing he know for sure was that he was about to get his ass handed to him. The man was a few inches shorter but he had a good fifty pounds on Dave, and he wore an expression like a pit bull._

 _The guy said something, which Dave didn't hear over the rush in his ears, because he'd obviously been mistaken for somebody who owed drug money or something. But he did hear Kurt; he begged the man to stop, please, because he was sick. Dave was sure he misheard. The guy had been about to let loose a beatdown that probably would have left Dave without the ability to procreate, and he's the ill one? No way._

 _That's what Dave thought as he slunk away, trying to shake off the panic. No way was that guy sick. And no way Kurt had someone like that - like a bodyguard. Did that mean Kurt wasn't afraid anymore? Was he going to tell? He came this close to having the shit kicked out of him, right in the middle of the hallway. Somebody probably would have recorded it on their phone and put it on YouTube; "Jacked athlete gets the crap beaten out of him by old dude." For the first time in awhile Dave missed the flu-stricken Azimio, because while it was easier to deal with Kurt without his buddy there he would have at least been physically safer. Who was he anyway, because he didn't look like the kind of person Kurt would associate with. But they obviously cared about each other. A family member? He had to be from Hudson's side, there for the wedding. He definitely didn't look sick. Did he know? What would happen now?_

 _Dave didn't figure it out until they were all sitting in the principal's office, commandeered by Sylvester. In the end, who did he have to compare him to? There were the dads on TV - guys who were too wrapped up in work and neglectful, or absent altogether, or full of sitcom dumb machismo. And there was his own dad, Paul Karofsky, soft-spoken and academic; the kind that got disappointed instead of angry. It just didn't occur to Dave that the guy could be Kurt's father... but he was. And this NASCAR dad obviously loved his son fiercely, fierce like the original meaning and not the newer homo one. He was ready to take a tire iron to Dave's head now that he knew Kurt was being bullied, at least this time by someone with a name and a face and a pattern of something stronger than slushies and dumpster tosses._

 _Dave had almost been more afraid of Mr. Hummel than of his secret getting out, of everyone knowing and looking and judging and hating and his life becoming a living hell. Almost._

"David?"

Dave jerks. "What?" His dad looks at him over the dinner table, and asks for the bread again.

"You seem kind of lost in thought tonight," says Paul.

Dave shrugs. "Just thinking." He doesn't really feel like talking. While his parents chat, he pushes around the food on his plate. He wants to be hungry.

He does enough homework so he won't be screwed the next day, and gets ready for bed early. Dave looks up the local newspaper online. There's a section in the obits about _Burt Hummel, 44, loving father and widow_ \- shit, that's right, Kurt's _mom_ was dead too. He was an honest-to-god orphan.

Dave's got a school directory somewhere in his room, they give them out every year, so he knows he can look up Hudson's address. But he decides to do it tomorrow. It's not like he has a lot of free time anymore - thanks to the stick thing's mojo he's back in the middle of game season, and Coach Beiste helps them win because she works the team really freaking hard. At least he's not ten pounds fatter anymore.

His dad comes in to say goodnight as he's shutting off the laptop. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah."

"You were kind of distracted at dinner," Paul comments. "I know that new Coach of yours is training you guys more than you're used to, but your studies have to come first -"

"I _know_ , Dad, I'm fine."

Paul raises his hands in resigned surrender. "Okay, okay. Well, sleep tight."

Dave watches the back of his dad's head as he walks out of his room. The graying gene worked so fast in his family that his dad was practically a blond now, and with the white at his temples he was like an aging Labrador retriever or something. It's weird; the image Dave has in his head of his dad is with his old brown hair, like nothing has changed. Jeez, but his old man is getting _old_.

"Just -"

For a second he thinks his dad is too far down the corridor to hear, which is fine because Dave can't believe he actually said something. It's like he has no control over himself. Again.

But then Paul comes back into the rectangular view of the doorway. "Sorry, did you say something?"

"Uh... just... I ran into Kurt Hummel today?" He doesn't want to talk about this; he just wants to go to sleep. But his mouth keeps going, and it turns out his dad does know about Burt Hummel dying of a heart attack, leaving behind a son without a father. And a couple hundred auto shop customers without an honest mechanic. Dave attempts a grin at his dad's joke.

"I know you're not close with him, but I hope you're being supportive. It's hard enough to lose one parent before you're eighteen, and now this boy's lost two."

"Um, yeah. I mean I'm trying to be friendly with him." Fucking surreal. Well, technically it's true since as of today he officially stopped bullying Kurt. Never mind that in this world he was the last one to do so. "It's just... really awful, you know? It's not like his dad was even that sick or anything."

Something changes in Paul's eyes, Dave can see it even if it takes him too long to recognize . "Oh, David." Then before he can do anything his dad is hugging him, holy crap. He just stands there, awkwardly holding his hands in the air before using them to pat his dad on the back. Paul Karofsky is still taller than him, and heftier. He can feel the scratch of that stupid goatee that makes him look like he's pretending to be a lumberjack. "It's okay, I'm not going anywhere. Your mother's making us go on Jenny Craig. I was safe until Jason Alexander become a spokesman."

Dave doesn't say anything. He _can't_ , goddamn it, or he could start crying like a baby on his daddy's shoulder. He might as well wear a diaper and suck on a pacifier the way his eyes are already scrunching, he's such a loser. Maybe he should ask for a blankie too, so he can curl his hands in that security instead of his dad's shirt. Except, no, Dave never had a blanket, he had a stuffed dog named Max that his dad gave him, so when he got sick he'd always have a quarantine buddy -

Dave shoves himself away from his dad. "Night, dad." He flicks the lamp switch without waiting for Paul to leave. There's a soft, "Goodnight," in the darkness as he gets into bed, before the door shuts closed.

Tonight's one of the few times Dave doesn't feel like jerking off to help go to sleep. For once it's actually easy not to think of Kurt, like he's saving up for the real thing now. Instead he goes over what he remembers of the games he played last season, which are now this season again. If Dave can predict what the players will do he'll be that much more of a badass on the field, and it'll rev up his cred at school.

He's almost asleep, drifting back and forth between the warm comfort of his bed and the cooler landscape of his football inspired dreams, when he shoots upright and smacks the light back on.

Dave doesn't know how he missed it before. Because it had to have been there before, and he just didn't see it while working on his laptop.

On top of his desk, resting peacefully, is the hollowed stone rod.

~*~

He goes that Saturday afternoon, after practice lets out.

Dave parks in the driveway next to a car that's already there. When he gets out he buttons his jacket all the way up to his neck and pulls the stretchy wrist cuffs as far down and over his fists as they'll go. The wind makes it seem colder than it actually is and it's pretty cold for mid-November. Air blows through the gaps between his jacket buttons, and it's like he's trapping the icy wind around his torso with a letterman bubble of cotton-polyester. The short walk from his car to the Hudson front door leaves Dave shivering. He never remembers to bring a coat unless it's actually snowing or his mom reminds him.

Thankfully there's a doorbell instead of a metal knocker. Dave waits, and breathes hot air over his hands. Why can't Hudson hurry up?

He listens for any noise inside that would mean someone is coming to the door, but there's nothing. Dave realizes there's a good chance nobody is home; just because practice is over doesn't mean Finn went home. He's got friends and a girlfriend, and so does Kurt. Well, Kurt has friends. He pushes the doorbell again.

Dave starts hopping in place, from foot to foot, hoping to warm up with exercise. Ten seconds, twenty seconds, still nothing. So he drove over and was freezing his dancing ass off for nothing. God, he hoped none of the neighbors were watching. He'd text Hudson to inform him of what a douche he was if he didn't think his fingers would get frostbitten.

That gives him the idea to actually call the home phone inside, just in case, and Dave turns to go do it inside his car when the door jerks open.

"Oh, hey," says Finn, and that's as far as he gets before Dave charges inside.

"Took you long enough," he growls, but the menacing effect is offset by his chattering teeth. Dave's never been to Hudson's house before. It's average sized, at least for Lima, and very homey. He doesn't take off his jacket.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Rachel Berry crosses her arms and frowns at Dave. He's too cold to bother talking to her, and just surveys her in return. One of her knee-high socks is down by her ankle and her hair is sticking out in odd places. Well, at least now he knows why Hudson didn't hear him. And it's gross.

"He's here to make amends with Kurt," says Finn, and he goes to take Rachel's hand. "Isn't that right Karofsky?"

Dave just grunts something affirmative sounding. Is the whole Glee club going to show up for this?

"Well that's a step in the right direction, at least. Did you bring something prepared?" Rachel asks.

Dave blinks. "Prepared for what?"

"For your _apology_ , of course, if it's going to be truly heartfelt and moving you should put as much time and effort into the sentiment as any musical number."

"I think something improvised is just as good," Finn counters. "I mean doesn't that make it more genuine?"

"No, Finn."

Dave wants to bash his head against something already. "Look, uh, is Kurt here?"

"You should consider the benefit of lyrical cadence - I myself have started the process of becoming a certified _quadruple_ threat of singer/dancer/actress _and_ songwriter -"

" - just wait here man, we'll get Kurt and you can do your thing -"

Being the better person sucked. No one was scared enough to stop and listen to him.

" - and oh! No, wait, this is actually a good thing. Since you're not prepared to say you're sorry in the traditional manner now you _have_ to do so in song! Let me think. 'Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word' is a classic, although, no, Elton John is singing about unrequited love -"

Fuck that noise.

"Rachel," interrupted Finn, "We have to leave soon for Glee practice, we don't have time to choreograph an apology. Kurt! Hey, Kurt! He's probably still got his earbuds in -"

" - but considering your undoubtedly limited portfolio I think 'The Reason' by Hoobastank would be a good selection; it's popular enough that you should be familiar with it and lyrically vague enough to be appropriate -"

Dave grinds his teeth because he's ready to kill both of them. Any second now he's going to tell them both to shove it. He's already apologized and this was supposed to be just for show so he could - so he and Kurt could - well who knows, but they're not going to shut up for him and apparently Kurt doesn't want to be bothered. Dave can always approach him later on Facebook. So in the end he did come here for nothing; this was so not worth it.

"Karofsky?"

They shut up for Kurt. He's wearing his trademark tight jeans, and a sleeveless sweater thing that goes up to his jaw line, with a Henley shirt on underneath that reaches his wrists. Matching heather grey dress socks cover his feet; it's the first time Dave has seen Kurt without boots or whatever on.

This was absolutely worth it.

"Um, hi," says Dave.

"Hello," Kurt replies.

He wishes Hudson and his girlfriend of the month weren't here for this. "I, uh. I came over so I could apologize to you. In person."

Kurt waits. Dave glances at Hudson, who makes a 'go on!' motion with his hands, one still gripping Rachel's like a puppet.

"Right, so." He clears his throat. "I shouldn't have bullied you... because it was wrong... and I promise I won't do it anymore. And I'm sorry. I mean, about your dad. I mean, that too," because Kurt's eyes narrow at the mention of his dad, "I'm mostly sorry for what I did to you."

Kurt shifts his stance. There's a long pause, and then he lightly shrugs. "Okay."

"That's _it_?" Rachel shrieks.

"Awesome, you guys!" Finn grins. "We're gonna go to Glee now." His tone of voice changes and gets serious. "Kurt, are you sure you don't want to come?"

"I'm sure."

Dave looks back and forth between the other boys. "Wait, you're not in Glee anymore?"

"I quit weeks ago," says Kurt. "I know you big football stars don't keep up on the gossip of McKinley High's little musical group, but considering the circumstances of my departure I would think you'd have already heard."

"We could really use your talent for Sectionals," admits Rachel. Finn looks at her in adoration, but Kurt is unaffected.

"Well," starts Dave. He can't believe Kurt isn't in Glee club anymore. Even when he went to that preppy gay Hogwarts he was still in Glee club. "Good for you! Oh, _what_ ," he directs to the two pissy Glee members left in the room. "We all know that Glee is still for losers. Now that Kurt's ditched it he's started moving up the chain."

Kurt chuckles, and it's different from his normal giggling. "On my way from mineral to mammal, right? That's another blunder. I think you're smarter than you look, Karofsky."

Dave was not going to react to that, he was _not_ , it was way too obvious. He'd get Kurt back for that when they were hopefully alone.

Finn promises to call when he's on his way home, since he might be hanging out with Puck and the other Gleeks after practice. When he notices Dave isn't moving after himself and Rachel, his brow furrows. "Aren't you leaving?"

Dave looks to Kurt, who studies his cuticles. "He can hang out here. We'll watch your copy of 'Clash of the Titans' and order some pizza."

"Uh... okay." Finn doesn't look convinced, and Dave puts on what he hopes is a convincing innocent look. He keeps looking back as Rachel drags him out of the house, blathering on about duets and crap.

Dave licks his lips. Neither him nor Kurt move from the front hall. They just stand in silence until they hear some car doors slam, and an engine turn on before quieting in the distance. Kurt observes him coolly.

"So..." Dave's voice croaks, and he coughs. "You live here now?"

"Yes. Carole is a nurse, so I guess that somehow helped her become a foster parent faster. Her shifts are from 3 to 11 PM." Kurt holds up his left elbow with his right hand, pulling at the neck edge of his sweater. "Do you want to see my room?"

Dave nods, not trusting himself to speak, and follows Kurt upstairs.

Kurt's room is a converted guest room, with yellow striped wallpaper and brown carpeting. He's got a lot of furniture cramped inside, all of it bright-white and chrome. There's a simple desk, shelves, a floor lamp, a fluffy bed, and a funky looking dresser. The open shelves have a ton of Kurt's belongings on them like books, and magazines, and a million folded pieces of clothing. His leather carrier is draped on a hook over the back of the door. It's a lot cleaner than Dave's room.

Kurt pushes a button on his very sweet speaker system, and something with a thrumming bass starts playing at a low volume.

The room seems kind of empty and Dave doesn't know why the hell he thinks that. He can clearly see how full of stuff it is.

"You should take off your shoes," says Kurt. Dave toes off his sneakers, grateful that he's only thirty minutes post his after-practice shower, and his foot powder is still working strong. Immersed by the tidiness of Kurt's room, Dave is compelled to pick up his shoes and place them neatly in the one bare corner behind the door.

Kurt's fingers find their way to the top button of Dave's jacket, playing with it. His knuckles brush against Dave's neck, at the smooth skin underneath where he has to shave every morning. Kurt's wearing cologne, but not something Dave can identify other than _really good_. It's obviously not anything like Axe or Old Spice.

"You know," he says into Dave's lips, "I used to daydream about being able to rip this jacket off someone while making out. I'd never do it the way you're supposed to, shank buttons will never get such harsh treatment from me, but these - these are technically snap fasteners."

Dave just _mhmms_ and keeps kissing him, chasing that mouth and that smell. He's not really listening anymore. So it shocks a gasp out of him when Kurt just grabs at his jacket and tears it open in one motion. It's kind of like Kurt is attacking him. In the best way ever.

After the jacket goes Kurt takes off his chunky sweater. Their hands roam as far as they can reach, hunting for the best hold on each other. Kurt pulls at Dave's shoulders and Dave's grips Kurt's ass, and Kurt walks them backward to his bed with their mouths still attached. He gets brave enough to try slipping his tongue out into the kissing, and it ends up being the right thing to do. Kurt shoves his own tongue in until they're doing what Dave can only hazily think of as tongue-fucking, spitty and awesome.

The backs of Kurt's calves hit his bed but they forget to climb onto it. All they can think of right now is trying to climb into each other. The focal point, where it feels like snapping electricity and they can't get enough, slowly moves from their mouths down past their waists. Dave's new favorite place in the world is Kurt's thigh, which he's grinding his hips into. Kurt does the same, Dave can feel him. He can actually _feel him_ , holy shit. This was really happening.

Kurt slides his hand underneath Dave's shirt, lotion-soft and ticklish against his abdomen. It's - that's not good, actually. He leans back and pulls Kurt's wrist out.

" _What_ ," Kurt snaps.

"It's just. Can I leave my shirt on?"

Kurt raises an eyebrow. Dave doesn't want to hear any comments about his chubby belly, and he hopes he hasn't made it worse by drawing Kurt's attention to it.

"Fine," he says, and reaches for Dave after he scoots back on his bed.

Dave gets one knee up on the comforter and then stops. The pause in action is what lets just enough blood back into his brain to figure it out: pictures. There are no pictures in Kurt's room, not framed on the wall or printed out and stuck on a corkboard, nothing. He doesn't have any friends or family photos displayed, even of his dad. That's what makes the room barren.

"You know," he murmurs, "I really am sorry about your dad."

"Shut up, Karofsky." Kurt pulls him down, until Dave is kind of draped all over him, and they start again. They take the entire afternoon to discover and re-discover the equally exquisite and uncomfortable experience of coming in your pants from dry humping. Kurt makes him go use the wet wipes in the hall bathroom when they're finally spent.

He doesn't feel sleepy afterwards like he thought he would, just boneless and bizarrely full as he lies there on a poufy bed. Kurt doesn't move or make a snide remark about hypocrisy when Dave moves a hand under his Henley, feeling the concave of his stomach and the bumps of his ribcage before stopping over Kurt's strong heartbeat. It's just so... nice, in a quiet way that Dave's not used to. At least before he remembers he's not a cuddler, and leaves with a mumbled, "Bye," over his shoulder. Kurt doesn't answer.

~*~

In theory, it should've been easier for Dave to do well in his classes since he'd technically already taken them.

In practice, that was bullshit. He didn't pay a lot of attention to what was going on the first time around to have enough of an edge, and it's not like he was super-academically focused now. Not when every free moment he has outside of school and football is spent in Kurt's room, on his bed, sometimes the floor, and he learned it was okay to stay a few hours for a second round. It was all Dave could think about. When was the next time they could be together, could he get Kurt to make that noise again, would this finally be the one where he'd rip off his shirt and Kurt would say, "God, your abs are so _amazing_ and _ripped_ , how could you keep them from me, you _handsome beast_."

Even if he could concentrate, it just felt like things would never be the same again. Now that he knew how it felt to have Kurt in his hands - sometimes under them - they were useless for anything else. Pencils? Plastic cafeteria forks? Footballs? No way. Dave Karofsky was made only for putting his hands on Kurt and making him cry out and curse and come.

He hadn't hung out with Azimio in ages. Dave made whatever lame excuses he could think of: his parents were pushing him hard to study and make better grades, he was trying for scholarships, he'd heard that cell phones and video games could give you cancer and with his family medical history he was kind of worried.

Dave tried not to think about it. Az had gotten frustrated before kind of giving up. He remembers the look in his best friend's eyes, and on his face, the last time Dave had blown him off to fuck around with Kurt. It made him remember that in his original world Azimio had been the only one to really stick around after the junior Prom prank.

Except he doesn't want to remember that, so he won't. Only one of them is giving him orgasms, anyway. So far nobody's really picked up that he's been spending all his time with Kurt, so it's all good.

Right now he's in the middle of Physics, the one class he shares with Kurt. Past sexcapades and current daydreams mix together, crowding out any thoughts of _velocity equals displacement over whatever_. Their teacher, Mr. Pritchard, was a thin, balding guy known for giving out the same test questions every year, but in a different order, and a ridiculous collection of paper weights on his desk. He had everything from a gigantic version of the Monopoly ship, to some felted bean bag thing, and a small resin block with a real scorpion preserved inside.

Kurt sits in the row in front of him, a few seats over, so Dave has a pretty good view. He still can't get caught staring, but he can't help himself. He vividly recalls what happened last week when he went over Thanksgiving Day.

 _Carole and Finn went to see relatives for the long weekend. They politely invited Kurt but let him stay home when he said he didn't want to go. He mentioned it to Dave offhandedly a few days before._

 _For the first time in probably his entire life Dave didn't sleep in on Thanksgiving Day, and he managed to get out of the house without being noticed. He left a note on the counter saying he was with a friend._

 _It was the longest stretch of time they'd had alone so far, but that fact did nothing to make them go any slower. Kurt took his shirt off and made fun of Dave for actually drooling a little in the corner of his mouth. For that Dave unzipped Kurt's pants (and it took all his strength but he still only got those damn tight jeans down to around mid-thigh) and as soon as he got his hand on Kurt's dick it wiped that smartass grin right off his face. He watched Kurt's eyes shut, his mouth a rough 'O' of moaning and swearing as Dave twisted his grip on the way up and down, sometimes thumbing over the slit and dragging precum along._

 _"Fuck you, fuck you, oh fuck," Kurt whined, getting higher and louder, digging his short nails harder into Dave's upper back, until he came all over Dave's hand. And that was only their first go of the day._

 _Later they ate turkey sandwiches that Carole left in the fridge, and watched a little of some movie about a woman who dressed like Jackie Kennedy and wanted to sleep with her brother. Then they went back upstairs for more. It was, hands-down, one of the greatest days in Dave's life._

It had to last him a while. Dave barely made it back in time for the formal sit-down with all his visiting relatives, and his parents were furious with him. He was grounded for a full week.

Kurt is leaning forward on his elbows, twirling a pen in his hand over an open notebook, and every few minutes he shifts in his seat. The lab has backless bar stool type chairs. It's like he's deliberately shaking his ass for Dave in front of everybody.

Dave takes out his cell phone, keeping it under the table by his pocket as he types one-handed. Mr. Pritchard drones on, oblivious, writing out equations on the board.

 _stop doin that. its distracting._ Send.

A few seconds later, he sees Kurt get out his own phone, scan the message, and type out something back.

 _doing what?_

Dave grimaces. _wigglin ur ass @ me, stop that!_

Kurt doesn't reply to that one. He calmly stretches, moving his butt further back in the seat and then, very slightly, rocks side to side. Dave bites down on his tongue to keep from groaning.

"So if everyone will turn in their homework," says Mr. Pritchard, and then everyone's groaning anyway. Dave flips through his binder, hoping he did the assignment, and finally he finds the sheet which is mostly filled out. There's a moment where he debates turning it in at all, because he doesn't want the experience of getting back a paper filled with red marks telling him how lazy and stupid he is. Math was the only subject that came easy to him and the only reason he was even passing this class, since it had so much math. But the girl next to him is holding out her hand expectantly, so he passes it in.

Kurt, he notices, doesn't pull out anything from his notebook. He never raises his hand anymore either, Dave realizes. He wonders if Kurt's stopped being Hermione Granger for all his classes. Even with his dad's death stopping most of the bullying, Kurt was doing a lot on his own to make himself more popular at school. Maybe Dave's rubbing off on him. Heh.

"Another show of truancy, Kurt?" Mr. Pritchard sighs. "At this rate you'll need to do some extra credit if you want to keep up your grade. See me after class to go over -"

"I think I'll pass, thanks."

Dave raises his eyebrows. Mr. Pritchard frowns. "Kurt, you really - just see me later, I don't want to talk about this in class."

Kurt flicks his pen. "Well I don't want to talk about it at all. And you can drop the Determined Teacher act, you're not working in Lima Heights."

Some students behind Dave snicker, and go, "Ooooh..."

Mr. Pritchard turns red. "I'm just trying to help you out here Kurt, since you've stopped turning in homework and you didn't pass the first quarterly test."

"And that is because my apathy extends to easily seeking out and buying 5-year-old exam copies from former students who smell of burnt oregano and shame. This despite the guaranteed A+ since you'll never take the effort to actually write new questions that are different from the ones you came up with back in 1987. But hey, your little pep talk has inspired me so much I think I'll get one for everyone!".

A few kids actually cheer at that, despite the toxic level of sarcasm. Mr. Pritchard looks like he might burst a blood vessel by his twitching eye. "Principal's office!" he blurts out stiffly, and writes out the note for Kurt to take.

Kurt gathers his things, and primly takes the note with two fingers. As soon as Mr. Pritchard's back turns, Dave hears more than sees Kurt knock over a few of the things on the teacher's desk before exiting, and it sets the whole class off again.

That Friday Dave's grounding is lifted and he somehow makes it to the Hudson residence without crashing his car, this after claiming illness to a skeptical Coach Beiste and spending the entire day maddeningly half-hard.

Dave finds himself lying in a post-coital haze next to Kurt not ten minutes in. He wants to be embarrassed, but mostly he just feels blissed-out. He wonders if this is how drug addicts feel. And also how old guys possibly managed before Viagra, because Dave can't imagine doing this just once a day or less. Not anymore.

Dave looks around Kurt's room. He doesn't actually expect anything to be different, but there are new things to be found after all. Random objects that don't fit - like a coffee mug that says _Muy Caliente!_ , or a refill bottle of hand sanitizer, and what looks like a single-serve travel blender on his dresser.

"Dude," says Dave, pointing to one, "Is that Mr. Pritchard's scorpion?"

Kurt follows his line of sight, then back again to make eye contact. "Yeah."

Of all the things to pocket... that is probably the coolest. "Nice," Dave compliments. Kurt rewards him with tiny kiss on the shoulder. The... _intimacy_ of it is shocking, and it triggers the end of his refractory period.

~*~

Carole changes shifts.

Now she has the 7 AM to 3 PM shift, so while Finn struggles to get up early for school each morning, his mom is home in time to greet him every day and make dinner.

It turns out Dave is really bad at phone sex and he's too afraid to go parking because anyone could see. He doesn't have a camera on his laptop for Skyping, and Kurt shuts down both sexting and cybersex based on his opinion of Dave's spelling abilities alone. He develops a severe, irrational hatred of the nursing profession.

"Can't we just - _nngh_ \- go to your place?"

Dave has to detach his mouth from Kurt's left nipple to answer. "No, my mom is usually home after school." And he doubts his own room would be acceptable for Kurt, not without an all-weekend sanitizing effort of vacuuming and Febreeze. He goes back to making Kurt writhe under his lips. Sucking and licking on a guy's tits - somehow it seemed even more gay than touching another guy's cock, but Dave loves it anyway.

If anyone asked, and this would be in yet another world where Gay is Okay, Dave would say that he liked to get his dick sucked and pound some sweet ass like a boss, please and thank you bitches. But to his own surprise, nothing was hotter than getting _Kurt_ off. He likes counting the ways Kurt reacts to his hands, or his tongue, and the way his voice goes all over the musical scale. Sometimes Dave can make him go high-pitched like a cartoon, and rarely, a low bass like he's secretly Optimus Prime or something. He likes listening to the random, filthy swear words that come out of Kurt's prim and proper mouth, and watching as a thin sheen of sweat appears on his skin. And because of that pale skin, what Dave likes most is waiting for the deep, telltale flush that starts just below Kurt's navel before blooming over his chest and face, right before he comes. It's accompanied by a ridiculously cute and scrunched up o-face, and Dave will never ever tell Kurt he thinks that.

It's almost as satisfying as getting off himself, which works out well since lately they only have enough time for one of them a day. Today, obviously, was Kurt's turn, and Dave works a hand inside his briefs to finish him off. Lunch is a little less than an hour, so with a ten minute drive to and from school that leaves about twenty minutes to get sexed.

Dave usually scarfs down a sandwich and a granola bar with some Gatorade during one of his afternoon classes to get him through the day. He learned that the hard way, after his first day of missing lunch and sexercising off calories almost made him pass out during football practice.

"Mr. Karofsky, are you eating in my class?"

"Uh..." he trails off, burning under the stares of every single person in his calculus class when they turn to look at him. "Yeah? It's a PBJ, what's the big deal? Hey!" he shouts in protest, as Mrs. Abbott seizes the sandwich right out of his hands and throws it in the trash.

"This isn't kindergarten, have some self-control," she admonishes. Dave hears people whisper and joke as she goes on about her lesson. Fuck. He doesn't look at them. But he can feel his stomach rasp in hunger, growling out loud too, and that doesn't help.

A buzz from his phone lets him know he's got a text. It's from Kurt:

 _busy 2morrow cant do lunch_

"Fuck," breathes Dave, and the guy next to him gives him a weird look. "What are you looking at!"

"No talking, Mr. Karofsky!"

When the bell rings Dave shoves everything into his backpack and barrels out of the class. He wants to punch something, and eat something, and get some goddamn relief. Some froshie gets in his way, a skinny dude with scraggly facial hair and acne.

"Move it, loser," he says, and shoves him aside. Dave gets two steps ahead when he hears, "Screw you!"

He's back in the kid's face instantly, anger overriding his normal aversion to being that close to greasy zitopia. "What did you say to me?"

The boy's eyes go wide. "You heard me?" Dave's not sure if that means he thought he was being quiet, or if he was trying to act brave and failing. He doesn't care.

Dave grabs his arm and drags him to the nearest bathroom, texting Azimio to meet him there ASAP with some super glue.

The other guy keeps trying to run past Dave, around him somehow to the exit, and Dave slaps him back one-handed each time. It's almost like that mindless game where you keep throwing a ball against the wall and catching it. It's amusing, but Dave's not here for that.

"Let me go, you asshole!" he shouts.

"Shut up," says Dave, and shoves him back again. _dude come on_ , he texts Azimio.

The boy takes off his backpack and starts swinging it at Dave. He looks ridiculous, and Dave can obviously take him, but knows how heavy his own textbooks are. Never underestimate your opponent; two against one was always better.

He suddenly remembers, oh yeah, he kind of cut Az off weeks ago. Shit.

Dave almost forgets to block a swing at that epiphany. He tries to think of something in the melee - he could probably make do with a classic swirlee on his own.

Alone, and it was his own fault.

"Well, what have we got here? Looks like some freak thinks he can take a swing at my boy and leave unpunished."

Dave turns to Azimio with a wide smile. It was good to have someone who had your back. "This guy tried to brush against me instead of getting out of the way. I think someone needs to learn to keep their hands to themselves."

"I think I like the way you think," says Azimio, and he hands over the little tube of crazy glue. Dave grabs the boy's right wrist and forces his fingers open, while Azimio knocks his bookbag away and holds him to the wall. "You're gonna swear an oath to us, acne-stash," says Dave, and he pours a good amount of the glue into the guy's hand. "Now grab your balls and repeat after me."

He tries to move, but Azimio slams him back into the wall. Reluctantly, his puts his palm to the front of his cargo pants. Azimio forcefully prods him on the back of his hand. "Hold tight, this is serious," he adds over the boy's groan. Dave comes up with some crap about the kid being a nobody who needed to respect the authority at McKinley, and makes him say it back. He lets go of him and nods at Azimio to do the same.

They both crack up when he can't move his hand away from his crotch. It looks like he's trying to impersonate Michael Jackson every time he tries to yank his hand free.

"Man," sighs Azimio, "It's good to have you back."

Dave shrugs with a grin. They walk shoulder to shoulder down the hall, like nothing has changed.

"It's bad enough that you went to drop me like Pluto, but to go all BFFs with Hummel? That's cold."

Dave stops, and possibly his heart does too. "You know I've been spending time with Kurt?"

Azimio gives him a look which Dave interprets as, "Duh, you stupid white guy."

Dave scrambles for an excuse. "Well, it's just, I've been trying to make up for my shit, you know?"

"I got you bro, really. It's karma and everything, you're just like Earl. You don't want to get run over by no car or anything."

"... Yeah?"

"Just don't ignore you best bud anymore, okay? If I may quote the queen, R-E-S-P-E-C-T," says Azimio. Dave agrees, and they seal the deal with a fist bump. He almost relaxes, until, "It was like when one of your friends gets a girlfriend and the rest of the world stops existing, I swear."

"Dude, no way, I'm not a fag for Hummel!" Oh god, except that he _totally was_. Did that come out too high pitched? Too fast? But Azimio just laughs him off and he's in the clear.

Life goes on, a little more balanced than before. He gets twenty minutes of Kurt's hands and lips on him every other day, and spends time with his football friends again after school for Call of Duty. He reacquaints himself with the two-handed slushie attack, along with Azimio and others, making sure the geeks of school know their place.

And on one cold December day, it was time to remind the losers of Glee, since they thought they could parade around the school like a bunch of Christmas elves. If you were gonna dress up like an idiot and visit a bunch of classes, you should offer candy canes, not songs.

Dave and bunch of other football players march toward their current targets: the Cheerio rejects. Quinn Fabray may have regained the uniform, but everyone knew post-baby she'd never be on top again. And Mercedes Jones, who for some reason decided being popular and a top athlete just wasn't for her, and quit.

"Sup, ladies?" Strando greets them. "We heard you wanted to get a little holiday cheer."

Mercedes eyes the cups of cherry-red and apple-green slushies nervously, while Quinn looked defiant. "Somehow, I don't think Sam would appreciate his teammates giving his girlfriend a slushie facial."

"We'd be happy to give you the other kind, Quickie Fabray!" The guys howl with laughter and slap some high fives over wide receiver Craig Stevenson's burn, then rear back their plastic cups. Mercedes holds two folders over her hair, and Quinn puts her history book in front of her face.

"Excuse me," a voice interrupts, "Some people actually want to walk _through_ the hall instead of stopping right in the middle and making a veritable traffic jam."

Kurt Hummel squeezes by the group, a stony expression on his face. Dave flexes his grip around the slushie, which suddenly feels too cold for his hand.

" _Kurt_ ," says Mercedes, and she sounds sad.

"Mercedes," he acknowledges, and moves to keep going.

"Wait!"

"I have nothing to say to you," he bites out.

"Don't shut us out like this," Mercedes pleads.

"Finn says you never speak to him, and you live with him," Quinn states softly.

"Well if you're so concerned why don't you start a prayer circle, I'm sure Jesus would love to know of one more atheist fag who deserves to burn in hell," Kurt hisses. "Don't forget to bring the iced tea and snickerdoodles so you can gossip afterwards about who else doesn't get to join heaven."

"Hey," yells one of the guys, "We're about to slushie you, don't ignore us!"

"Oh," says Kurt, "Is that for me too?" He reaches over to take the cup from Dave's slack grip, and takes a drink. He licks his lips, the cherry-red dye from his tongue tinting his mouth rouge. Then he puts it back in Dave's hand. "Thanks," says Kurt, looking right into Dave's eyes before stomping off.

Dave bites the inside of his mouth, trying to will away his growing erection. He doesn't know how Kurt survives without loose pants.

The slushie-ing commences as usual, and some of the guys throw their empty cups on the ground as they leave the drenched girls. "We should have gotten Hummel, too," says Strando, and Dave almost trips over his own feet.

"Dude, no, he's not in Glee club anymore," Dave tries. "Plus you were all over my ass like two seconds ago for just that!"

"It's been forever since his dad died, he can't use that excuse forever. He's still a flaming homo." Someone suggests another group-slushie, this one with all the colors of the rainbow. That reminds someone of a rainbow shooter, which makes them think about shots on fire, and a serious conversation takes place about whether or not they could get away with a flaming rainbow attack. The more Dave tries to feebly protest, the more they brush him off.

"Az, help me out man," he asks.

But his friend just snorts. "Naw, I gotta admit, I'm little pissed at the guy myself. He got you to ignore me for weeks, what's up with that?"

"Yeah Karofsky," sneers Strando, "What's the little fairy-boy got on you?"

" _Nothing_ ," says Dave, and his head feels light. "He's just - helping me out with some homework, that's all."

"Oh, like a 'helping hand,' right?" Strando makes a gesture like he's jerking-off, and Dave shoves him into the lockers, hard. "What the fuck, man!"

"I'm not some homo, take it back!"

They almost start fighting right there before their teammates pull them away from each other. "You're really strung up on Hummel," says Craig. "It's kind of gay, man."

"Fuck you," Dave snarls. "Do whatever the fuck you like, I'm done." The bell's about to ring anyway, so he splits.

He's rescued, sort of, in history class by a video about the Vikings. The real ones, so no funny hats or anything. The lights are off and half the class is asleep.

Dave breathes.

They're starting to catch on, and he doesn't know what to do. How does he throw them off, how? He could ask out Santana, be Best Beards Forever a few months early. She's not dating Sam yet. But she'd know right away that he and Kurt were hooking up. Or almost hooking up, since they haven't had actual sex yet, and she'd mock them for that too.

Which reminds him; he quietly gets out his cell, covering the light of the screen with a fort of textbooks, binders, and a pencil bag.

 _watch out_ , he texts Kurt. _strandos gunnin 4 u_. There's really not much else he can do to protect him, but it gnaws at Dave all the same.

He doesn't get a reply, not even later that evening. He hopes it reaches Kurt.

Dave gets his answer the next morning during weights. A lot of people's phones light up and ring, and the whispers start flying. Next to him, Azimio whistles lowly.

"What's going on?" he asks.

"Your boy on the side is crazy," Az replies. Dave's mind shorts out and he drops his six-pound dumbbells. They just barely miss his feet. His boy on the side? Crazy? Neither of those things are good.

"Look," says Azimio, "I agree with you, I don't think we need to mess with Hummel that much anymore. He's too tall to throw in the dumpsters anymore, and whatever he said to Madame Bertrand in French the other day, like actually in the language of French, was so bad she almost fainted. It was hilarious." Azimio pronounces it 'high-larious.' "If he didn't still dress like a cross between a circus freak and a street hooker I'd say he was almost cool. But he's not."

Az sighs. "But I don't wanna mess with no crazy that tries to stab you. Tell him I'm off-limits, you feel me? As your friend, please."

It was the mind-blowing rumor that spread through McKinley like an STD, that Kurt had stabbed Strando. _Stabbed_ him, which Dave could not believe at all. Kurt wasn't _violent_. Stubborn and defiant if you pushed him, maybe, but that's all. Dave was the meat-headed jock; it was more likely that _he'd_ shank somebody than Kurt. The weapon of choice started out as a sharpened nail file, then changed to a pair of sewing shears. Strando was fine, he was in the hospital, he was dying - the stupid rumor followed Dave throughout the day.

Second to last period Dave is hit up with a text that says, _headin home early. u comin? ;)_

He asks for a bathroom pass from his teacher, and wanders over to Kurt's locker, where the boy in question is listlessly filling up his bookbag.

"What happened?" says Dave.

"I got suspended," Kurt answers, like it was no big deal. Which it isn't, and that happens to be something Dave knows personally.

"Did you really stab Strando?" Kurt meets his eyes slowly. "Oh my god, is he _dead_?"

"Of course he's not dead you idiot, he's barely even hurt!" Kurt slams his locker and starts walking. "He made some commentary he shouldn't have, and I jabbed him in the hand with a pen. Then he started shrieking, and there was ink everywhere, and mass stupidity set in. A bunch of Cheerios were cooing over him before I even left the room. I saw him sneaking a feel at one of their breasts with his good hand."

"Don't they have to call your d - Hudson's mom?"

"Yeah, they told me to wait, but, well. It's not like they were really paying attention."

Kurt strolls down the hall, and then makes a sudden left turn. Into a storage closet.

"You get lost or something?" Dave jokes. Because it's a closet. His laughter is cut off when Kurt grabs him by the lapels and pulls him in, quickly shutting the door behind them.

Kurt is on him right away, kissing and biting at his neck and mouth, and tracing his hands over the warm span of Dave's back. Dave wraps his arms around Kurt on instinct, pulling him close. He'll never get tired of this; the feel of him, the way he smells, the way he fits against Dave.

There's a noise in the background, distracting him from Kurt's mouth. It needs to stop, and then it does, but then there's a different sound -

"That's the bell," says Dave, panicking. There are dozens out people outside going to their next class.

"So what," says Kurt, who kisses him again.

It's difficult to break away from the kiss, and Dave absurdly thinks of their mouths as magnets. "The door's not locked, anyone could walk in!"

"You're so beige."

"What?" And Kurt is what, turquoise?

"As in vanilla? Not even remotely kinky."

"I am too!" Dave goes to move Kurt's hands off him, but he's trying to be gentle while Kurt is not.

Kurt yanks Dave's head down and whispers into his ear. "You know what Strando said to me?" he says. His breath is sultry, like a hot breeze over a lake. "He said I should be a 'team player.' That I ought to pass myself over to him, because he would give it to me way better than a marshmallow push like you."

Dave's vision whites out. Strando _knew_. And he was _dead_ , nobody hit on his - his Kurt. Jesus, he couldn't even think. Somebody laughed loudly, right outside the door, not five feet away.

"I'm pretty sure he was just kidding and trying to mess with me, but he wouldn't take no for an answer, thus the ninja pen skills." Kurt flicks his tongue against the lobe of Dave's ear, and the only thing keeping him standing by this point is that he can't remember if he q-tip cleaned his ears that morning. The fear doesn't do anything to diminish his lust, instead combining into a high-octane mix of adrenaline.

"But you don't want anyone else, right?" Dave asks, and he has no idea where _that_ came from.

Kurt looks at him with exasperation, and what Dave hopes is a little fondness. "No," he says.

There's a bang against the door, and Dave jumps. "Shit, we have to leave, Kurt." They couldn't take off together, and Dave starts thinking that since Kurt was suspended anyway he could stay until everyone was gone. Meanwhile Dave should slip out now, while he still could. Anytime now.

"I don't feel like going anywhere," Kurt says, and kisses the breath away from Dave's argument.

" _Mmph_ , Kurt - wait - we can't get caught -" Dave groans as Kurt palms him through his jeans, and drops his forehead to rest against where Kurt's neck meets his shoulder.

"You're free to leave at anytime," Kurt says flatly, unruffled while Dave pants into his skin. And that was the problem, right there. Dave wasn't free - when could he ever pull away from Kurt, even when the risks were obvious? It's like nothing has changed since the locker room and his moaning is seriously _deafening_ , they've got to be able to hear him outside. They'll be exposed any second now.

"Kurt - _please_ -" and Dave honestly can't tell if he's asking for Kurt to stop or to keep going.

He hears the familiar voice a split second before Kurt steps away from him, and by the time Puck yanks open the door Dave's no longer sharing personal space with Kurt, the fists in his letterman pockets pulling down the jacket to cover his hard-on.

"What are you guys doing in here?" Puck looks back and forth between the two of them.

"Karofsky wanted to see my stabbing pen," says Kurt, and Dave almost chokes. "What are you doing here?"

"Showing my man Artie the best places around school to sneak a little tonsil hockey with his lady." Sure enough, Dave can see part of a wheelchair and one arm waving.

Kurt huffs, unamused, and excuses himself. Dave finds himself standing with Puck and Artie.

"I'm really worried about him," Puck says. "I mean, he's kind of badass now, which I totally respect, but he's gonna end up in juvie just like me if he keeps it up, which would totally suck."

Dave side-eyes Puck.

"They ripped out my nipple ring," he admits, obviously depressed at the memory, and actually brings up a hand to massage his manboob. Dave doesn't want to think about Kurt locked up with any actual juvenile delinquents.

"Look, I understand you and Kurt's friendship better than anyone else," Puck continues, and Dave seriously doubts that. "Just look at me and Artie! I used to throw his wheelchair off the roof and call him 'soldier' when he had to crawl with his arms to the nearest class. Now we're bros, and I got his back. You gotta do the same for Kurt. He only talks to you anymore. Well, and Artie."

"If by 'talk' you mean the only one he hasn't de-friended on Facebook, sure," says Artie.

"Why?" asks Dave, and Artie looks as surprised as he feels for asking at all.

Artie shrugs, but his eyes betray a grim understanding. "I don't know. I guess I just... know how it feels to want to be left alone, when you know it's not going to get better."

They leave Dave in the hallway, and when the second warning bell rings and he feels nothing, he skips the rest of the day.

~*~

It happens late on a Tuesday, right around the time afternoon turns into evening.

Dave is bored. It's a few days before Christmas, and while he's generally satiated after getting caught up on all the sleep he missed over the school semester and stuffing himself with home-baked holiday cookies, he's still bored. He already knows what he's getting and he's stuck with his older video games until then.

He hasn't looked at his phone in over a day because all of Kurt texts are nothing but scathing insults of the holiday chores Finn and his mom are making him do to keep busy. Dave half-thinks he's going to ending up volunteering to cook Christmas dinner for them so he can poison the roast.

After some Halo with Azimio and a few of the guys from the team, he helps his mom make a sweet potato casserole, with orange juice and pecans. Dave leaves out the mini marshmallows for once. They watch some old black-and-white movie on the small TV in the kitchen as it cooks, and he burns his tongue a little when he attempts to eat a gooey piece right after it comes out of the oven. Dave ends up drinking half a carton of eggnog to both cool down his mouth and wash the starchy desert down.

When he flips his phone to finally check in, he has to take a moment to process the incredibly blunt message: _wanna prove ur kinky? pick me ^ @ 545 w condoms n lube. dont b l8._

Dave picks up on _kinky_ and _condoms_ before the entirety of the text becomes clear. He checks the time - 5:19.

"Shit!" He shoves his feet into his sneakers unlaced and thunders down the stairs. Then he runs back up again, shedding clothes as he goes so he can take a three-minute shower.

His mom reminds him to be home by 9 PM, which he probably will be, maybe, and Dave just makes it out of the garage without hitting the mailbox.

At the grocery parking lot he speeds into a handicapped spot and makes a mental promise to be nicer to Artie Abrams when he gets the chance.

Since having to shop from the condom/lubrication/pregnancy-test section of the store implies getting laid within the near future, Dave can't exactly call it hell. He settles on purgatory. How can there possibly be so many options? What if Kurt is one of those people allergic to latex or something? Should he save money and get the self-lubricated condoms, or is that going to end up the same way as when he told Kurt he used a 2-in-1 shampoo plus conditioner? How the hell does he know what size to get? Sure, you could buy the XXL in the store, but what happened when the time came and it was like putting a plastic bag on a roll of lifesavers? And why does all the lube say things like "vaginal moisturizer!"

Dave goes for the classic Trojans, size large, and some of the KY warming stuff.

At the self-checkout he briefly wonders if he should bring anything else. Dave vetoes flowers, stuffed animals, chocolate, and candles, all by the too-girly default, and also wine coolers by age default. None of their hook-ups classified as 'dates' including this one, but if this really was the day he was going to cash in his V-card, it just felt like he should do something special. Besides showering in places he hasn't touched in probably his entire life.

He pulls out his wallet and his debit card isn't there. Of course not, he left it on his desk after buying a Chinese gun staff online, shit! What time was it? 5:41, _shit_.

Dave puts a hand to his forehead. He had a credit card for emergencies, which this definitely counted as. But how would it show up on the bill? Would it just say the name of the store or would it somehow let his parents know what he bought? Dave can't take the chance, and he finds enough cash to cover just one thing.

He is _not_ going to risk getting caught shoplifting sex supplies.

All too aware of the time, he reasons you can use lube without condoms, but not the other way around. So, choice made, Dave stuffs the bills in the machine as fast as he can manage. As soon as the automated voice says "Thank you," he pockets the KY bottle and runs out without collecting his change or receipt.

Kurt is waiting on the curb when Dave arrives at 5:49. "You're late," he says as he clicks in his seatbelt.

"Sorry, your highness," Dave replies, then winces. He remembers the Prom crowning, even if Kurt doesn't. Finn is openly watching them from a window, so Dave drives off. "Anyway, where to?"

"I'll tell you when to turn if you really need help."

"Can I turn on the radio?"

"When do I ever let you play the radio while driving, Karofsky."

"Just the one station that plays nothing but Christmas songs this time of year!"

"Ugh, no." Kurt stretches in his seat, and puts his gloved hands up against the heat vent. "So, remember when you and your cretin pals nailed a bunch of lawn furniture to the roof of my house?"

"What? No."

"You waited until there was nobody home for the weekend so no one would hear the noise; it's kind of a massive prank to forget."

"I know what you're talking about, I just wasn't there." Dave remembers it very well, because he was also gone that weekend with his family for some stupid camping trip. He had so badly wanted to be included with the popular jocks; he'd actually been bummed that he missed out on it. "What is this, Prank Remembrance Day? You wanna talk about the time I hit you with a slushie laced with pepper spray? How about the time Azimio and I forced you into the chemistry lab's emergency shower and turned it on?"

However funny it was seemed back then, it makes Dave's stomach roll to think about it now. He used to push Kurt around because, well, for a lot of reasons he still doesn't know. Except the one, the one reason he's figured out pretty well - that back then there was only one way to touch Kurt and not catch flak for it. Dave doesn't think he could go back to that, it would be like the needle of an old turntable causing damage on a record backspin.

"Forget it then. Turn right here."

Dave sulks. This was not the sexy kind of verbal sparring that counted as foreplay. Maybe Kurt was having second thoughts, which was unfair. "I haven't done any of that in months, Kurt, and I'm not gonna start up again. Plus, I'm the one that's been trying to stop everyone else from bullying you again, which makes me look super gay but I still do it!"

Kurt just stares out the window. At any moment he'll speak up and Dave will have to take him back home.

"I'm sorry," Dave says quietly. "Are you mad at me?"

Kurt reacts to that, turning his head to face him. He seems kind of puzzled. "No, I'm not mad. Turn left at the next light."

He leads Dave to a house with a "For Sale" sign on the lawn. It's dark enough that Dave doesn't worry about people seeing him, and Kurt tells him to wait by the front door while he goes around to the back. In the cold dimness Dave wonders what they're doing.

When Kurt lets him in, he asks just that. The answer is, "We're here to get naked and get off, didn't you read my text?"

Dave gapes at him. "You wanna do it in a _stranger's_ house?" How did he even get inside? Probably picked a backdoor lock or stole a key, Dave reasons. He follows Kurt further indoors. There isn't a lot of furniture, and what's left is covered in dust sheets. There are faint outlines on the wall from where paintings have been taken down. After turning the heat up on a dial in the main hallway, Kurt slips off his coat and wool scarf, dropping them on a couch. He sits down to untie his boots.

"What if the owners come back? I don't want my life to turn into a gay Ke$ha video, we'll probably be arrested!"

"You know, you couldn't say something like that about the Mama Monster. A gay Lady Gaga video? That's got to be some kind of oxymoron, or a pop culture double negative." Kurt finally works off one of his boots. "Nobody's coming back. The house is in foreclosure, didn't you notice the sign?"

Dave takes off his own coat and shoes, and since Kurt is still working at his right boot he decides to explore. The house is so strangely empty - there are no towels or toilet paper in the hall bathroom, nothing in the fridge except a box of baking soda. The draped furniture is bare of any objects, and there are no lamps, only the wall switches for light. The basement has some leather couches and freaky looking lamps, and a single floor-length mirror. Dave wrinkles his nose; he's probably stumbled on what used to be the mod BDSM room for the people that lived there before. He leaves before Kurt can corner him down there.

The upstairs is more of the same, although there are a lot of cardboard boxes and he sees one labeled 'Baby Pictures.' Oh gross, that means some _parents_ had a BDSM basement. Not thinking about that. There's one locked room that Dave knows to leave the fuck alone because of every horror movie ever made. It's in the master bedroom that he surprisingly hits the jackpot. While covered with a dust cloth like everything else, there is what looks like a very comfortable king sized bed inside.

He hears Kurt come up behind him. "What are you doing?"

Dave grins at him. A large bed, in an empty house, with a few hours to waste? "This isn't such a bad idea after all. Doing it in the parent's bed is _definitely_ kinky. I'm game."

He tilts Kurt's head back to kiss him, although Kurt barely responds. "What's wrong?"

Kurt blinks at him. "Nothing. Just glad you're finally getting with the picture." And then he's back to being the Kurt Dave knows, pushy and hansy and the hottest thing ever.

Getting to the bed is more of a road trip than a direct crossing; each time they manage to take off another piece of clothing they have to stop and enjoy the newly exposed stretch of skin before moving again. It's not that they haven't seen pretty much everything by now, because they have, just not all at once. Well, almost everything.

Dave stops when he's left butt-naked from the waist down with his t-shirt still on. Kurt rolls his eyes, eternally composed and bitchy even while nude. "Seriously?" He shoves Dave onto the bed, and the taller boy lands with an 'oof!' flat on his back. " _Elle_ , _Allure_ , and _Marie Claire_ all agree that lying on your back makes your stomach flatter." Dave wonders who the hell those girls are; he doesn't think they're in Glee club.

And suddenly he doesn't have any room for embarrassment, because to get his shirt off Kurt climbs on top of him, straddling him at the hips. There is so much more bare skin to see and feel. His cock brushes against Dave's, and his thighs are hot, solid weights on both sides that anchor him. Dave brings his hands to Kurt's waist because he kind of wants to keep him there forever. Kurt bends down to kiss him, and when he straightens back up he pulls a little at Dave's bottom lip with his teeth. Dave's neck aches at a sharp angle trying to follow Kurt's mouth.

"Where's the stuff?" Kurt breathes.

"What stuff?"

Kurt, who had started moving his hips and pressing down more, stops. "Karofsky."

"Oh. Oh! Uh."

"Did you _forget_ them?"

"No!" Dave pushes himself up on his elbows. "No, I went to the store, I just - I didn't have enough money, so I only got lube."

Kurt pinches the bridge of his nose and curses. Dave is very careful not to say anything more so he doesn't get kicked out of bed. Literally. Kurt would totally kick him, and he's got pretty big feet. As he should, now that Dave knows exactly how un-petite his dick is.

"Okay," says Kurt. "We can still do this."

"We can?" It isn't until Dave says it that he realizes he's kind of relieved, and it must show on his face with the way Kurt is looking at him. It's more than just performance anxiety. Once you go all the way, nothing else is supposed to be as good ever again, and Dave... really likes all the ways he and Kurt have only mostly hooked up. He wanted to do more. Jeez, they've still never even blown each other.

"Or not," Kurt amends dryly. "Fine, where's the lube? I suppose we can try some kind of intercrural sex." He gets off Dave to fetch the KY, and in the sudden chill without Kurt's body heat Dave wonders what the hell inter-what-all is, because with all the porn he watches? He should know everything about sex.

The lube feels more tingly than warm, and smells a little like cinnamon, which Dave thinks makes it kind of seasonal. Kurt has them both on their knees, facing each other while kneeling in the all pulled back sheets, and the way Dave only just understands it they're doing the gay version of titty-fucking, but with inner thighs and ass-cracks instead of boobs.

Except, and Dave only thinks this in the back of his mind, that's he's overdoing it with the crude descriptions. If he were really honest with himself, if he _could_ be honest with himself, he'd think of being with Kurt in nicer terms, because that's what it was like. It was like that in addition to being hot and pornographic in the best way, instead of being one or the other.

Like the way Kurt keeps his arms around Dave's neck to hold on to him, but arches back for a better drag against Dave's stomach. Or the way Dave pushes in and out of the slicked up space between Kurt's thighs, but keeps his hands on Kurt's waist like the most courteous dance partner. Dave grunts in time with his hips, getting faster, and Kurt's commentary starts degenerating into nonverbal, guttural sighs. His fingers are wet with KY on the back of Dave's neck, and when Dave finally comes, all he smells is Kurt and sex and cinnamon.

He manages to keep kneeling long enough for Kurt to rub off against him, and then slips out of Kurt's embrace to collapse backwards in a comfortable, cushioned heap. Dave throws an arm over his eyes, blocking out the light. He'd rather feel than see the afterimage of that orgasm. Best Christmas present ever, and Dave chuckles at a bizarre idea he has of Santa confusing naughty with nice this year. He even feels like cuddling, 'tis the season and all that. Although the endorphin rush starts to taper off as Dave becomes more aware of the cooling, sticky mess Kurt left on his stomach, and he fumbles around to gather some of the dust cloth and wipe himself down.

It occurs to him that Kurt must have it even worse, all over the back of his thighs and stuff. "Hey," he asks, "Do you have any of those wet wipe things?" Kurt shakes his head 'no,' his arms crossed tightly over his chest, and Dave tries to gather a different, clean section of the dust sheet for him. He sits up, not even caring about his stomach, and holds out the puff of cloth while waiting for Kurt to say something amusing but cutting. Like a reference to an Emperor with no clothes or something.

When Kurt doesn't take it Dave looks at him, and he's it turns out he's not shaking his head but turning it in short, sharp jerks, like he's searching all over the room. He seems kind of panicked, actually. "Kurt?" Did he think the room was bugged or something? Dave stretches out and brushes him on the arm.

Kurt bursts into tears.

Dave lurches back so hard he falls off the bed with a thud that shakes the room. He gets a rug-burn on his naked ass and his palms for his trouble, although it barely registers. Kurt is full-on bawling. His eyes are already red and he keeps wiping away fat tears, but some manage to run over his hands and down his forearms. He sounds like he's dying.

Dave puts his hands over his ears, trying to block out the noise. It's not like he - he didn't - he _wouldn't_ \- he absolutely did not hear Kurt say "stop" or "no." It wasn't like that. Why the fuck was he crying? "Why are you crying?"

Kurt doesn't even seem to hear him. Dave wants to reach out and touch him, in a comforting and totally non-sexy way, but he also think that might be a really bad idea. And not just because it sounds like Kurt has gotten to the snotty part of crying too hard, but there is something really, really wrong about this, and Dave doesn't want to think about it. Just a few seconds ago everything was great, why can't it go back to that?

He tries, "What's wrong?" but that just makes Kurt sob even more intensely. Dave suddenly feels very heavy, not like he's fat but like the gravity in his room got stronger. It's a lot like the way he felt when he thought Kurt would blurt out the truth the first time around. He hates feeling helpless. Dave just wants Kurt to stop, but telling him to shut up would be too cruel, even for him. He doesn't know what to do. "What do you want?"

Kurt hiccups, and when he speaks each word costs him a gasp of breath. "My - _dad_ ," he sobs.

Dave feels the burn of his eggnog as it comes back up, and he only just makes it to a trashcan by a dresser to spit it back out. He forcibly thumps into the dresser in his rush to bend over the waste bin, knocking a worn baseball cap onto the floor. It's not even a full vomit heave, just a few gulps of liquid, but it corrodes his throat and the sickly sweet custard smell assaults his nostrils just like the sound of Kurt Hummel in his ears.

He's so stupid, he's _so stupid_. Kurt didn't _like_ him, life was not _awesome_. And it was all his own fault, _again_. Who would start fooling around with the same guy that bullied him after the death of their only remaining parent? Not someone who was dealing with grief well, obviously. A smart person, a _normal_ person would have called a therapist or a hotline, but what does Dave do? Indulge in own horniness and never question anything. So _fucking_ stupid. He probably made things even worse and Kurt would have to go to some kind of juvenile psych ward, for being damaged. _Dave_ might have to go to some juvenile detention place, for being a monstrous enabler or whatever. What if everyone found out? What if he never saw Kurt again?

Kurt is still crying, or trying to. Dave thinks he might be getting too exhausted to physically keep going, but he's still making those horrible sounds, sometimes intercutting with meek wails of "Dad - dad," like he's calling for him.

Dave spits into the small trash, getting as much of the taste out as he can. He'll never be able to enjoy eggnog again. "I'm sorry," he says, and he knows Kurt can't hear him. "I'm so sorry."

Those same words, again, because it's his fault, again. There's no way to make this right, he can't bring back Kurt's dad or undo what he did.

\- _except!_ -

If he weren't already crouching Dave would have fallen to the floor. He's had so many shocks today, and he feels physically weak. But then he gets to his feet, grabbing his clothes and redressing, slowly at first and then faster and faster. As comprehension dawns, so does his strength. And hope. "I can fix this," he says, because chanting it out loud makes it sound real.

"Kurt," he says, and stops. What should he do? He can't _leave_ him here, crying and naked. But it's not like Dave can drive him home. Finn's place isn't home to Kurt. And he can't take him to his own house. Plus there's still the problem of Kurt possibly freaking out all over again if Dave tries to touch him.

Dave draws the bedspread up over Kurt. He doesn't want to startle the smaller boy by being too close or almost touching him, so instead of pulling the sheet snug over Kurt's shoulders and chest he sort of drops it over Kurt's trembling frame. It slips from the top of his head, but with enough work Dave manages to loosely shroud him in cotton.

"Just - stay here for now. I'll be right back," he promises, only partially lying.

Dave drags himself away from Kurt, and focuses on marching out. He doesn't catch Kurt blinking, his blurry eyes trailing the only movement in the room and almost focusing on Dave just as he makes his exit.

In the car Dave gets lost right away, and he shouts nothing but "Fuck!" for half an hour among the backroads of Lima until he finds a road he's familiar with. He drives long enough to recognize where his is and makes his way home.

"Hi sweetie, you're just in time for dinner," his mom greets him.

"Not now," he bites out, not caring that he's being rude. He hikes it to his room, shutting and locking his door behind him. Dave is out of breath, and even he knows it's not because the stairs winded him.

His hands shake a little as he opens the first drawer in his desk, and pulls out the stone case from where he shoved it weeks ago when it re-appeared. It looks the same, old but not cracked or chipped in any way, a long grey sheath for weird wish granting magic sticks. But what if it didn't work this time? No, he can't think that. It _has_ to work.

"Bring back Mr. Hummel," he commands, and nothing happens. "I wish Mr. Hummel were still alive, just as he was and not like a zombie or anything," he tries. " _Please_ ," he adds, and feels ridiculous. Was this how he did it that first time? No, he remembers it opened first. Maybe it has to be open to work.

Dave pulls at the top with the cording and actually gasps. It's like a solid stone carving. He twists until his fingertips are raw and almost rips off a fingernail. "No!"

"David?" His mother knocks at his door. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm busy!" he shouts, and through his mom's scolding he keeps trying to open the thing. "Please, please open," he begs. "Damn it, why did I have to wish to re-do that kiss!" Sure it was life altering, but at least it was private. Kurt came back eventually, offering friendship if not hand-jobs. "I should have wished to re-do something else, anything else, like Santana and her fucking Bully Whips program before it got us royally prank crowned, just anything as long as Kurt's dad is okay."

The stone case _pops_ opens, fast like a gun firing, and Dave drops it in shock. Mrs. Karofsky is pounding on the door. He hears the familiar _crack_ and absurdly remembers Kurt's face, how equally beautiful he was wearing expressions of either dominance or desolation as his room warps -

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accept all comments and criticism, please let me know what you think! :)


	4. Chapter 4

To anyone who might still be reading this is unfortunately not another chapter, this is an infodump explaining why I’m not continuing this story. I’m including my notes and outlines for what I had planned for the rest of the fic. If anyone would like to take over this fanfic please go right ahead!

a)

To start, I am 500% done with Glee. By about the end of the 3rd season I was beyond sick of Klaine, of Rachel being unsympathetic, of Tina being forgotten about and/or misused, of the show being a sloppy front for reselling every single pop song already on the radio, and of the worship of the increasingly pathetic characters of Blaine and Finn. (Which I must point out never affected my opinion of Cory, I was impressed by almost everything he did. Like being open about his struggles with addiction even though buttheads would judge him for it, and coming from an education-forward family I was proud of this guy I'd never met when he earned his GED even though he was the star of a hit TV show. He didn't "need" to finish high school with his paycheck and celebrity status, but he did it anyway! And then he and Lea just seemed so in love, I believe the rumors that they would have gotten married. :( Cory just seemed like the friendliest guy in the world, like he had no ego whatsoever despite living in Hollywood. Retconning Finn’s dad into a reckless druggie was one of the most disrespectful things the writers ever did. RIP, man. :( You are missed.)

Second, the characterization of Dave in the show just veered so far away from what I was writing. In my fanon, I like to think of Dave and Azimio as the darker version of Finn and Puck. You start with Dave as a not very bright but well intentioned young athlete with unintentional humor and occasional bursts of insightfulness; but unlike Finn, raised in a restrictive and religious household. It’s more intricate than ‘Dave is in the closet because his Mom is homophobic, cue angst.’ Finn’s history with his Mom gave him the courage to seek out “unpopular” hobbies and friends that turned out to be a second family, or a supportive network. I imagine Dave grew up in a more traditional setting, football and church and all that crap. Dave’s mindset of how high school works is “kill or be killed” and it’s true for him because he doesn’t have that supportive network that helps one survive being bullied. Being gay only compounds the issue, and he tries twice as hard to fit into the macho American man stereotype that everyone – family, friends, strangers, school, media, society – expects him to be. And since you can’t change your orientation, well, obviously he’s not coping at all.

Canon Dave is similar, but he comes off as much more intelligent, someone who deliberately hides behind a façade of stupidity. Canon Dave is also more desperate – I started “Like a Black Swallowtail Butterfly” at a point in the Glee narrative where Dave seemed to accept that being gay is not the apocalypse, but still something that needs to be kept secret because other people are stupid. I thought I, a cisgender straight girl, could manage that but I don’t think so anymore. I’m not comfortable writing the POV of a closeted gay boy because for him the experience is more like him realizing he’s attracted to a sibling. It’s that devastating and disgusting for him, and how his own mother sees him. I just don’t trust myself with doing it right.

I've tried re-watching certain episodes and re-reading some of my favorite Karofsky and Kurtofsky fics, but they haven't rekindled anything in me. So I'm done, sorry. :/

b)

 

Spoilers for what I had planned, so if you don't want to know skip this section.

 

 

SPOILERSSPOILERSSPOILERSSPOILERSSPOILERSSPOILERSSPOILERSSPOILERS

 

 

To refresh, this was a fill for a prompt at the Glee angst meme two years ago: <http://glee-angst-meme.livejournal.com/15590.html?thread=11961830#t11961830>. The challenge was to give a post-season 2 Dave Karofsky a magical object that grants him wishes, and what he wants most is Kurt. However the object is cursed and everything gets worse the more he wishes. I had just finished watching an anime that dealt with a Monkey's Paw, so I just incorporated that.

I had a nice little soundtrack for the entire fanfic, symbolic and everything! I kept up with the bird/flying theme to go with Kurt and Pavarotti, and then further matched each one to the smaller subject of each chapter.

The title comes from the lyrics of the theme song to the hilarious yet spooky show xXxHolic ([you can watch the whole series here for free on Hulu here](http://www.hulu.com/xxxholic)), and it's their canon I use for the Monkey's Paw.

**19sai (19 Years Old), by Suga Shikao** (it's a Japanese song, this is one of a few possible translations) [Click here to listen/watch on YouTube](http://youtu.be/v6zgUdeIUsc)

         You came into my room  
         With poison on your lips, didn't you?  
         It feels like my mind and body  
         Both dissolve with your kiss  
         Hateful self, 19 years old  
         Hateful self, 19 years old

         Your heart is so beautiful  
         It makes me nauseous  
         Why would you kiss someone like me  
         Someone who can't do a damn thing?  
         Hateful days, 19 years old  
         Hateful face, 19 years old

         Like a back swallowtail butterfly  
         I want to fly on magnificent wings  
         Please don't say it's stupid  
         That kind of life is good... it's good

         If getting rid of a filthy soul  
         Is an impossible thing  
         No matter where I go  
         Is that my future?  
         Indecisive dreams, 19 years old  
         Indecisive lies, 19 years old

         I want to become a black swallowtail butterfly  
         And be loved by someone  
         Even if it doesn't happen 9 times out of 10  
         Just for one moment would be fine... just fine

         Hateful self, 19 years old  
         Hateful self, 19 years old

         Like a back swallowtail butterfly  
         I want to fly on magnificent wings  
         Please don't say it's stupid  
         That kind of life is good... it's good

         I want to become a black swallowtail butterfly  
         And be loved by someone  
         Even if it doesn't happen 9 times out of 10  
         Just for one moment would be fine, just fine

Eerily accurate of Dave's state of mind and how he thinks of Kurt, no?!

**Chapter 1 - Bird Song, by Florence and the Machine** [Click here to listen/watch on YouTube](http://youtu.be/iPhGybu1T8o)

This is the set up for the story, to show where Dave got the object and what kind of state he's in after we last saw him being crowned Prom King to Kurt's Prom Queen.

         Well, I didn't tell anyone but a bird flew by  
         Saw what I'd done and set up a nest outside  
         And he sang about what I'd become  
         He sang so loud, sang so clear  
         I was afraid all the neighbors would hear  
         So I invited him in just to reason with him  
         I promised I wouldn't do it again

         But he sang louder and louder inside the house  
         And now I couldn't get him out  
         So I trapped him under a cardboard box  
         And stood on it to make him stop

         I picked up the bird and above the din I said  
         "That's the last song you'll ever sing"  
         Held him down, broke his neck  
         Taught him a lesson he wouldn't forget

         But in my dreams began to creep  
         That old familiar tweet, tweet, tweet

         I opened my mouth to scream and shout  
         I waved my arms and flapped about  
         But I couldn't scream and I couldn't shout  
         Couldn't scream and I couldn't shout  
         I opened my mouth to scream and shout  
         I waved my arms and flapped about  
         But I couldn't scream I couldn't shout  
         The song was coming from my mouth

         From my mouth (x15)  
         From my mouth  
         From my mouth!

The lyrics to the accoustic version are even creepier. But yeah, this is Dave in one of his darker moods thinking about Kurt. So, he wants what he can't have, which is Kurt, and he thinks back to the only time he took it, wishing he could have it again and do it better...

**Chapter 2 - Stork & Owl, by TV on the Radio** [Click here to listen/watch on YouTube](http://youtu.be/r6rRQ-smDkY)

This is the first request from the prompt, where Kurt kisses Dave back in the locker room because Mr. Hummel is dead. I believe Kurt would just be devastated and dead inside, and since he can't feel any good emotions he might as well feel the bad ones. Thus, he's vicious to his old friends, he enjoys riling the teachers because he doesn't care about school anymore, and of course he's got the same problem Buffy Summers does where he uses sex and the other person as a way of dealing.

         Faceless fall from this life and ah  
         If you can't see the stars  
         You've probably gone too far  
         Like the voice that cried  
         On the lonesome tide  
         Like the wave was  
         the only love it ever saw

         "What's this dying for?"  
         Asks the Stork that soars  
         With the Owl high above  
         Canyons mighty walls  
         Owl said "Death's a door  
         That love walks through  
         In and out, in and out  
         Back and forth, back and forth"

         Turn from the fear  
         Of the storms that might be  
         Oh let it free  
         That caged on fire thing  
         Oh hold its hands  
         It'll feel like lightening  
         Oh in your arms safe  
         From the storms  
  
         Sky bends, the moon's dress's slung low,  
         Slung low  
         Dogstar taught a dance  
         It goes, it goes, it goes, it goes, it goes, it goes, it goes  
         Arms out, knees bend  
         The motion flows  
         Like the soft open petals  
         Of a Jessica Rose

         So Sirius  
         So it falls apart  
         It just reveals the perfect nothing.  
         Of everything you are  
         Of everything we are

         Candle of life  
         Lights the blights and bruises  
         Oh lay it down  
         In the night  
         Let it soothe this  
         Oh hold its hands  
         And we'll know what truth is  
         Oh in its arms safe from the storms

Dave knew, in the back of his lust-addled mind, what was going on but he didn't want to deal. Which is sort of his thing, no? Some soppy love song wouldn't fit. He's not going to hold Kurt until things get better, because that would require thinking things through. And when it does hit that he's been taking advantage of Kurt's grief, he wishes for a universe where Mr. Hummel is alive, even if it means Kurt is with Blaine and he has to go through the stupid prom again...

**Chapter 3 - The Asteroids Collide, by Alessi's Ark** [Click here to listen/watch on YouTube](http://youtu.be/O5v4qCoh0Xs)

This would be the second request from the prompt, "Dave tries to fix the wish...and tries to pick up after Kurt transfers back to McKinley. Only this time he turns to Dave because Blaine has turned out to be an abusive jerk and Kurt is so twisted up that he thinks he deserves to be hurt." I didn't see Blaine being physically abusive, so I planned to write him as emotionally abusive. And unfortunately Kurt would endure it because he's grateful to have a boyfriend, someone out and attractive. I saw hints of it during season 2, then we REALLY saw it in season 3, canonically: Blaine is a needy attention whore. Dave would have seen Kurt be less fabulous and expressive and not go to Prom, because Blaine didn't want to go so that's the end of it. While Dave and Kurt would have grown a little closer in this universe, (because asking after his Dad is the way to Kurt's heart lbr) ultimately no one is going to believe the guy who physically bullied people over the Golden Prep School Kid.

         Your eye-lashes they act as cloaks  
         For your telescope eyes  
         Your ears they point skyward  
         Transmitting mockingbird's call to the skies  
  
         With the shudder of your boots  
         Moon-dust reach the roots  
         Of the neighbourhood's favourite tree  
         Be friends with me... be friends with me

         The Asteroids Collide  
         The feelings liquidize  
         You're safe  
         You're scared  
  
         The weight that you haul  
         Leaves cracks in the wall  
         You're safe  
         You're scared  
  
         You're enclosed and in love  
         Your little white dove  
         She flutters and mutters your name  
  
         According to accordion  
         Your outspoken loudspeaker shines  
         Hyacinths hypnotised  
         Your black hair is pushed back

         Thin skin it does lack  
         Any colour or trace of the sun-ray's race  
         The television's flickering  
         The frequency you're giving off is a powerful thing  
  
         Tell me why does love fly in, fly out  
         When you're barely looking?  
         I swear I wasn't, I was not looking

         The Asteroids Collide  
         The feelings liquidize  
         You're safe  
         You're scared

         The weight that you haul  
         Leaves cracks in the wall  
         You're safe  
         You're scared  
  
         You're enclosed and in love  
         Your little white dove  
         She flutters and mutters your name

         Tell me why does love fly in, fly out  
         When you're barely looking?  
         I was not looking

         The anchor clanks  
         Your heart sank  
         Your body locks  
         Your ship it has docked  
         New life has found the island  
         And you're stuck, and you're stuck  
         On the island  
         On the island

Just how Dave understands what's happening to Kurt, his POV on Blaine, on both of them. And he wishes for a universe in which he could have Kurt again, but not one where he was chained down by Blaine...

**Chapter 4 - Bird on a Wire, by Sarah Blasko** [Click here to listen/watch on YouTube](http://youtu.be/EHz9qkH5xr8)

This would be the third request from the prompt, "Or he wishes for a shot with Kurt in the future...only to find himself in an upscale hotel room where Kurt--the _escort_ he's hired for the night!--is asking Dave if he wants him on his hands and knees or on his back with dead eyes and a defeated voice." In his last appearance Dave talked about being a sports agent, but I had planned for him to be a successful stock trader after retiring from being a professional athlete, like the bad guy from Leverage 3x13. This one would have been delicious, because outwardly it seems like Kurt has everything he ever wanted - he lives in New York, he has an amazing apartment, a huge and fashionable wardrobe, he goes to all kinds of high class events, he eats at upscale restaurants, he gets his hair/nails/facials done in the best salons on a weekly basis, and lots of spending $$$. And it's addicting to Dave, being the one in the position to give Kurt what he wants and have him in bed every night (and certain times/places during the day...). Then Dave realizes that the beautiful ice bitch attitute is just that, an attitude - Kurt has given up on love. The few times he's given in to clients who say they'll leave their spouses and openly be with him, none of them ever followed through. Men he meets through more conventional means can't deal with his profession. He can't stand to go to Broadway, where he was as pigeon-holed and stereotyped as he was in high school despite his talent. Wheareas the first Kurt who lost his father was empty and striking out, this Kurt is just sad and defeated.

        Hurt like a bird on a wire you got cursed  
        You got burned, something that no one deserves

        As you broke in your wings you forgot how to sing  
        All the trouble it brings, trouble that it brings  
  
        For the first time in your life you're coming home  
        You can feel the strength returning to your bones  
  
        Caught in a trap of desire you got lost  
        You got shot with a bow and arrow to the heart  
        You fashion your life like a battered wife  
        Got some wood and a knife, wood and a knife  
  
        For the first time in your life you made a home  
        You'd work your fingers right down to the bone

Dave tries to help and it backfires, of course, and now he'll never see Kurt again, so he wishes to start everything over...

**Chapter 5 - Freeway (Acoustic Version), by Kurt Vile** [Click here to listen/watch on YouTube](http://youtu.be/DB9XyCkodrs)

This would have been a prompt of my own. This wish universe starts just before junior year. Dave decides to do everything "right." He comes out to his parents, who are loving and supportive (first clue right there, which he deliberately ignores). He joins Glee, he braves the slushies with his new friends, he does amazing in school, he gets closer to Kurt and sabatoges any chance of a relationship with Blaine. He ends up going out with Kurt, who is all too happy to give the only other out gay boy he knows (and happens to be an attractive football player) the honor of being his boyfriend. I toyed with the idea of Azimio coming around and supporting him, dating Mercedes, because I loathe that pair-the-spares storyline. Basically he does everything the way a lot of people assume is the right way, and in the end, Kurt still gets bullied and ends up the victim of a very vicious prank - the rest of the asshole football players make him choke on hot sauce. Much more serious than it sounds, I asked a few medical assistants I know. The real stuff will literally burn your throat, leaving open sores that take forever to heal, not to mention if they had to put a tube down Kurt's throat so he could breathe that would compound the issues even more. Basically his singing and regular voice are shot to hell for a few years. Even if in this universe Kurt chose to pursue a fashion career instead of following Rachel like a lemming, his voice and singing are a gift and a huge joy to him. Every time he breathes it's a reminder of what happened, what people still think of him, what was taken from him.

       I got a freeway in mind,  
       Let go of my head,  
       Walk down my line,  
       Better be sure you'll be dead

       I got a trumpet,  
       I know where to dump it,  
       I'm glad that you came,  
       If the sound is the same.  
  
       Sometimes my reckless ways,  
       Shock my self system for days,  
       Now I'm channelling my faze,  
       In an anacin haze,

       But it aint gonna do me in,  
       I know when to dump it,  
       A hole in my way again,  
       I'll surely just jump it.  
  
       There was a kid in a tree,  
       Among the birds and the bees,  
       Between bee hive and bird nest,  
       And I think you know the rest,

       He wanted to be free with them,  
       But they weren't believing,  
       Pecking and stinging him,  
       Till he wasn't breathing,  
       But it ain't gonna do him in,  
       He'll just go to heaven,  
       Not done just a dreamer of ten or eleven.  
  
       I've got a freeway in mind,  
       Let go of my head,  
       Walk down my line,  
       Better be sure you'll be dead,  
       I got a trumpet,  
       I know where to dump it.

Dave's POV on the situation, I crack up everytime he sings 'dump it.' Very black humor. And by the end of it all, he just wishes for it to be over, for the universe to leave Kurt alone, his own desires be damned...

**Chapter 6 - Yellow Brick Road, by Angus and Julia Stone** [Click here to listen/watch on YouTube](http://youtu.be/H-I2IeODXEo)

And he wakes up where we found him in the first chapter, hours after coming home from the trip with his mom to the antique store. It feels like he just had a bizarre nap, but something in him knows it was more. He takes a shower, picks up Santana, and has the best awkward time ever hanging out by himself at the New Directions party. It's like picking at the same wound when Kurt is nice, comes over to say hello, which is when Dave decides he can't take it anymore. His life sucks, he has no friends, and it's not a good idea to be near Kurt. There's only one thing left to do so he can take control. He says goodbye to Kurt, who has no idea what's going on and is slightly offended that Dave doesn't appreciate his help. When Dave gets home, he pulls out the pamphlets from other high schools in the area that he kept when he was temporarily expelled. Relieved that his mom is out for the night, he asked his dad to talk with him at the kitchen table. "Dad, I need to talk to you..."

       Just a spoon full of sugar  
       Makes the medicine go down  
       Sweet Mary-Jane won't you lay me down  
       Lost my heart in California, lost my mind  
       Shot me down with a revolver, got me high  
       Then a heart of gold came on the stereo  
       Mr. Young made me cry  
       Then all the colors of the rainbow  
       Fell in my eyes  
  
       I lost my mind long ago  
       Down that yellow brick road  
       I lost my mind long ago  
       Down that yellow brick road  
  
       Took a train to the river  
       Where I drove right in  
       That skinny dippin' girl  
       Made the blue bird sing  
       Fell in love in California, she blew my mind  
       She shot me down with her revolver  
       She got me high  
       Then the weather man came on the radio  
       Said there be sunshine  
       Then all the colors of the rainbow  
       Fell in my mind  
  
       I lost my mind long ago  
       Down that yellow brick road  
       I lost my mind long ago  
       Down that yellow brick road

This is maybe my favorite song that I found for this fic - it's bittersweet, if you ignore the weed symbolism. ^_^ Dave finally grows up a little bit. He can't go forward until he lets go of the past, namely his obsession with Kurt.

 

 

SPOILERSSPOILERSSPOILERSSPOILERSSPOILERSSPOILERSSPOILERSSPOILERS

 

 

3)

That's it, that's the end. Thank you to LJ user [never_say_die](http://never-says-die.livejournal.com/) for such a great prompt, sorry I wasn't up to the challenge in the end!

**Author's Note:**

> Unlike at the zoo, at Ao3 we encourage you to feed the writers! :) Feedback (and constructive criticism!) is ♥.


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